A Turtle's Tale
by BrokenKestral
Summary: Lucy meets a very old, very slow Narnian who remembers a few things from before the White Witch's reign. Together with Peter they go to tell the Narnian Exiles it is time to return.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I cry the opposite of the seagulls in _Finding Nemo_; _not_ mine.

OOOOO

"Remember the days of old;  
Consider the years of many generations;  
Ask your father, and he will show you,  
Your elders, and they will tell you." Deuteronomy 32:7

Lucy plopped down in her chair with a sigh. She shouldn't complain, and she was trying not to, but this seemed so _hard_. She'd thought (with all the wisdom of an eight-year-old) that once the battle was won and the White Witch was dead, things would be easy. That seemed fair, right?

And parts of it where. She smiled and clapped her hands as she remembered the enormous knighting ceremony, and appointing to roles (Susan had found a scroll in the chamber just off the kitchen that listed positions in the castle and who had been what a hundred years ago, so they didn't even have to guess at those), and how all their friends had been so very happy. And the afternoon she spent exploring Cair Paravel with Mr. Tumnus was one of her favorite times, and the way she'd dragged all her siblings to see the best parts of it afterwards, that was lovely. But the smile dropped off her face as she remembered what else they'd found.

The library. The White Witch and her minions hadn't been able to enter Cair Paravel; it had been locked up, empty. Somehow Aslan had preserved it. But the Witch Witch had been clever, and when she couldn't enter, her army had broken several panes of glass, leaving the rooms at the edge exposed to her winter. And she'd done that to the library, and so many of the books and scrolls had been buried in the snow, ink running, pages to frail to be handled, or entire books illegible. Edmund had been furious and grieved, and all the joy of their exploration leaked away. Peter had looked like something heavy had just hit his shoulders, and Susan quietly explained to Lucy that they'd been hoping the library would teach a lot of the things they didn't know. And, Susan added firmly, there was still a chance of that. She'd get the old Fox, Sir Reynard, and the grumpy Badger, Mr. Belsir, and see if they could help. She'd heard them discussing their respective libraries together with loud and decided passion.

The two had come, and been properly horrified, and had saved what they could and put things in order. Peter (when he wasn't chasing down evil remnants), Susan (when she wasn't chasing down maids and stewards), Edmund (when he wasn't chasing down Peter), and Lucy (who didn't think she was chasing anything) all spent a lot of time in there, reading and reading and _reading_. Mum, back in that Other Place, had taught her to read and she could do it quite well, but the elaborate script was a bit hard to handle, and she had to bring a lot of the longer words to the others.

And it all added to the four finding out they had neighbors (neighbors! Lucy wanted to meet the Archenland people, they sounded like so much fun), and also that they had a collection of islands that were a part of Narnia. But they didn't know where, how many, how to get there, or what sort of beings lived on it. But Narnian King after Narnian King had listed "Emperor of the Lone Islands" ("it's plural, Peter, there's got to be more than one") in his official titles, and so Lucy supposed they were all "emperors" too. She wondered if being an emperor was fun. Or if it was as difficult as being a queen.

"Lucy!" Lucy turned in her chair; it was her sister's voice, calling from a few hallways over. "Lucy!"

"Here!" While Susan's voice rang through the passages and hallways like a the note of a song, Lucy thought her own voice was rather like a bird's chirp. But somehow Susan always managed to hear it. "The outer sitting room!"

Susan walked in - gracefully - a moment later, and Lucy bit her lip. Sometimes she understood why Edmund chased Peter; partly because Peter was silly and needed help, but partly because Peter was such a good king and good to watch and learn from. Susan took to being a queen like Mr. and Mrs. Beaver took to swimming in their newly melted river. It's where she belonged.

"There you - why, what's wrong?" Susan placed a gentle hand on Lucy's shoulder. "What are you thinking about?"

"The Lone Islands," Lucy said. She _had_ been; that's what she came here for. "I wanted to do something to help, to do my part."

"Oh," Susan said. "Lucy - you really needn't worry about that. You do so much. You make all of us remember to smile again, just like Edmund steadies us, and Peter is someone we follow. You _are_ helping."

"But we're not helping the Lone Islands!" Lucy protested. "And I just can't help wondering - what if they need it as much as Narnia?" Her voice went higher. "Is ruling _always_ going to be like this?" She bit her lip again, trying to keep the whine from escaping. Susan sighed, and her mothering fell away as she sat down, not quite so gracefully this time.

"I don't know." She waited, thinking. "I can't imagine it would; just think, next year we'll already know so much more than we do. And parts of it are easier now; the castle pretty much runs itself. If the Lone Islands were alone for a hundred years, they'll probably do much the same. Don't worry about them, Lu. What is it your always telling us?"

Lucy grinned, a little reluctantly. "If Aslan could conquer the White Witch, He wins over your problem."

"The Lone Islands too," Susan said firmly. "Now why don't you go outside, to the seashore, and talk to people for a bit? That's why I came here; one of the robins heard from a seagull that there's something or someone new on the beach." Lucy brightened up - she loved new people, and was out the door before Susan could remember to tell her to wear her shoes. Racing down the stone stairs, hand on the wall, through a long passageway, darting around the dryad there with a smile and a shared laugh, down another set of stairs, through another hall, to the large entrance room and outside, then skipping through a side door in the wall that had a path running straight to the beach. The moles kept it clear and even, and she didn't see why she would have needed shoes. Run, run, run, wind blowing, down to the beach that was so near. And there, not too far away, was something new.

(1) It was a bent circle, mottled light brown and grey and divided into sections, resting on the beach. It was about one and a half meters long. Lucy ran up to it; it looked familiar, like she'd seen a picture of it before, when it wasn't half buried in the sand. She reached out and touched it; it was cold and wet, and _moved_. She drew her hand away and watched, fascinated, as the front half moved up and a head emerged from between the top and the bottom, a long, narrow head like a thick, short snake. It blinked very black eyes at her.

"Good...morning." The voice was ponderous, deep, and slow, and reminded Lucy of Cair Paravel somehow. Like it was old and unmoving, a landmark.

"Good morning," she said cheerfully. "I'm Lucy. Who are you?"

"Purpoise." He blinked again. "My parents thought the name...was funny." Lucy smiled, though she didn't get the joke.

"Are you Narnian?"

Purpoise turned his head to look around at the beach. "This was...my nesting ground. But it was too cold, the past hundred years. I wanted to see it." He remained there, staring. "It's back."

Lucy looked where he was staring; a family of dogs were far down the beach, the puppies chasing the waves, barking words she couldn't clearly hear, then retreating with a yelp from the next wave. Their mother was industriously digging a hole behind them, large enough for all to sit in.

"The dogs are back? They were here when you nested?"

He slowly swung his head to look back at her. "I do not think so. They were not alive, not then." His black eyes studied her. "Happiness," he said slowly. He swung his head away again, looking to the trees, filled with chirping birds. "Happiness is back."

Lucy blinked. Well, it was, but- "When was there happiness before?" It couldn't have been during the Witch's reign, but hadn't her reign lasted _forever_?

"Before the long winter." Purpoise sighed. "It was a _very_ long winter," he added to himself.

Lucy reached out a hand and touched him, cautiously. He was solid, real, the shell smooth and faintly wet. "How old are you?" she whispered.

He leaned into her touch, just a little. "I was a turtle of 53 winters when the winter first came. The females of our kind, including my wife, could not lay their eggs, and they came to us and complained." A smile caused wrinkles around a good third of his head. "They liked to complain. Now they cannot." Lucy giggled at that, but kept her hand touching him.

"You're really that old?"

He looked grave. "I have lived through the reign of a king and the reign of a witch, child." He tilted his head to the side, examining her again. "You are the new queen?"

Lucy plopped down next to him, leaning against his shell next to his head. "One of them, but it's _hard_," she said, reliving her thoughts from earlier. Then she realised she was complaining - just like the female sea turtles. "But maybe it will get better. See, we've been-" she broke off. "Purpoise, do you swim far?"

"I swim from ocean to ocean, current to current, over and over." He was watching the puppies again, still barking, though one of them had collapsed, panting. "This was my nesting ground, though."

"Right," Lucy said impatiently, caught up in her wondrous, glorious idea. "Have you ever swum to the Lone Islands?" she burst out.

"Only one of them is nice for landing," Purpoise reminisced. "Human towns are rougher than the beach. But Felimath is nice. The beaches are left alone, and the sand-"

"You've been there!" Lucy broke in, his slow voice not keeping pace to her rushing thoughts. "Where is it? How far away? Humans are the ones there? Are they free? Can you show us?"

The turtle cricked its long neck so that it could look in her eyes. "I was telling you about Felimath," he reproached.

"But it's important, we need to know about the _people!_" Lucy exclaimed. If he knew, maybe she could help take a weight of Peter, Susan, and Edmund's shoulders.

"I'm telling the story," the turtle said, a slight grumble in his tone. "Let me tell it." He waited till Lucy nodded. She supposed if he was going to help, he should do it his way. Even if it was so _slow_. Queens were supposed to be patient, weren't then? But she waited. Purpoise reached forward with one front leg and raked his claws through the sand.

"Felimath beaches are like this," he said. "Not many humans. Sheep, inland. I like Felimath best. Lots of places to rest undisturbed. Doorn, though, and Avra, have humans. More than Narnia. Fishermen, for the most part, but if they catch a turtle they'll let him go with a 'sorry for the trouble.'" His face creased into that smile again. "There was one time I wanted to get caught. Had a message. Didn't want to walk the streets. I swam into the nets, waited all day for the people to pull them up. But they weren't the polite ones. They picked me out of the fish and threw me away before I said a word. Three times, it took them. 'Look, Dad, here's that old turtle again!' Old. They were ignorant as well as rude." He looked over at Lucy. "Don't be rude," he cautioned her. Lucy thought about her outburst and firmly held her tongue. But how was she supposed to explain how _important_ this was? "I told him, 'Boy, I am not a month more than 53 winters, and already wiser than you!' The man dropped me then; I think he came from Galma, and didn't expect a turtle to talk. He wanted to keep me as a pet. But Aslan saved me; when I told him I had a message from the Emperor of the Lone Islands, he took me right to the governor, and I told the governor that Narnia was under attack." His voice became sad, and he blinked. "That was right before the long winter." Lucy almost squealed. The islands - Felimath, Doorn, and Avra, she remembered, saying them to herself so she wouldn't forget - they'd known Narnia was being attacked. They had a governor. Maybe they'd be ok?

She waited till she was sure Purpoise was finished talking. She didn't want to be rude. "Have you been there recently?" she asked. His eyes moved from the pair of centaurs coming from the trees, preparing for a gallop along the shore, back to her.

"Oh, maybe twenty winters again now. Felimath is nice. The beaches are soft, like Narnia's," and he ran his other claw through the sand, leaving two long rakes in front of him.

"Do you - do you have any stories about the people from that visit?" Lucy asked.

"Still fishing. Politer, when they catch you. Young Pavken was caught. Four times, he was. Too busy looking for food to see the net, as stupid as a mute fish. He probably won't grow to 150 winters. But he made the sailors laugh so loud, we could hear them from the water. They leaned over the side, they did - beards wet and dripping. They yelled down to us they were giving our adventurer back, and to keep him clear of the fishing lanes. But they lowered him down nicely, a rope round his shell, and told us we could cut it with our claws. We thanked them politely - turtles should always be polite - and told them where the fish were turning to. They liked that news. They never minded catching Pavken after that."

Lucy let out her breath. "Then they're ok," she said. She smiled, as widely as she could. "They sound ok."

"They're still living, still working," Purpoise agreed. He yawned. "It was a long swim. Forgive me, your Majesty. May I take a nap?" Lucy threw her arms around his neck and squeezed it gently, before leaping to her feet.

"Thank you Purpoise!" she called over her shoulder, and heard his long, slow voice call a welcome before trailing off into silence. She raced back up the path, back through the courtyard, and into the castle. "Susan!" she called, her voice echoing off the stone. "Susan!"

"Her Majesty is in the gardens, with their Majesties, having tea," piped a voice from her left, and she looked over to where hedgehog was standing, an apron whose ties were carefully threaded through their spikes. "The garden by the well, Queen Lucy." Lucy flashed her the best smile she had, and ran back out of the castle into the courtyard, and into the gardens. She found all three of them on a blanket, just the three of them, Edmund and Peter sprawled on the ground and Susan reaching for the teapot.

"There you are, Lu, we wondered," Peter said, opening his eyes.

Lucy grinned at him. "I found out about the Lone Islands!"

The three froze, looking at her in interest. "Sit down, have some tea, and tell us," Susan said, already pouring another cup. Lucy plopped down, took it, and told them all about the turtle. It took a great deal less time to tell when it wasn't in his slow, halting speech, but it brought a smile to all their faces all the same.

"Turtles can live a very long time, I'd forgotten," said Edmund thoughtfully. "He might know so much about Narnia that's been forgotten."

Lucy frowned. "I'm not sure he does," she said, thinking. "He keeps to the beach. But he said he was messenger for the king to the Lone Islands, so he'll at least have met him." Edmund nodded.

"Well done," Peter added, looking at Lucy, and her smile got even bigger. It felt wonderful, to have done something good. And to have done it just by _talking_ to Narnians and making new friends. Perhaps, she thought, that's one of the reasons Aslan made her queen. She couldn't wait to do it again, maybe that afternoon, if Purpoise was still there. She was sure he had more stories to tell.

OOOOO

A/N: Is this something people have an interest in hearing more about? I could probably write a few more chapters, but they're kind of at the back of the list, unless someone wants to hear them.  
Also - I wrote this mainly because, having lived in another country and seen what happens when it doesn't exist, I really, really regret the gap between generations that's in America. Older people often make the best counselors, therapists, guides, and teachers about love and life, if the students have patience. They have what most of us are too busy or too broken to have, perspective.

(1) I chose a Green Turtle, since they are the longest-living turtles who are also large enough to be scene by Lucy from a distance.


	2. Chapter 2 Stories of King Dwarfsteel

**Chapter Two: Stories of King Dwarfsteel**

Disclaimer: Though a host of sea creatures, including white-winged ones, cry with me in chorus that Narnia is mine, alas, many voices do not always tell the truth, and it still wouldn't be.

A/N: Thank you, lbernsteinnm and Guest, for reading and letting me know you'd like this story to continue. I'm writing this chapter today because I'm taking a break from writing for the next eight or so days; so it's thanks to you two that it's written and posted now. Guest, I'll make sure to include those stories!

**I hid a Tolkien **_**Two Towers**_** quote in here. Can you find it? **

OOOOO

Lucy ran down to the shore the next day. The four had been busy after their tea—Narnia would hold its first official court in a few days—and then supper, and then last-minute studying, and then falling asleep on the table (Peter had carried her to bed, and she'd thanked him with a sleepy hug when he set her down, though Edmund told her the next morning he'd tripped on the doorframe of the library and nearly dropped her on her head), then breakfast, housekeeping details, talking to the castle staff, and helping Susan choose which throne room to hold court in, she hadn't had a chance to go back to her new friend. But she did now, and she took it.

She reached the beach a little out of breath. She should practice running with Peter and Edmund, she thought. Horseback apparently wasn't doing enough. She looked to the left, the right, up and down, and her heart sank. She didn't see the peculiar sphere anywhere, and she sighed and walked down to the water. She scowled at the waves. She'd wanted to see her new friend again. She'd wanted to ask about the other islands, and how long turtles lived, and what the king was like. Now he was gone.

She sighed. The scowl wouldn't stay, not with the sight of Narnia's blue sea waves sweeping rhythmically over the shore. She plopped down, the water brushing under the soles of her boots. Well, she thought, she still had a beautiful land to rule. Filled with good people. And three older siblings to help with all the things an eight-year-old couldn't do.

But she'd liked Purpoise. He knew such a lot and seemed like someone it'd be easy to care for. Someone who needed a listener more than a queen.

"Good morn, Narnian Queen," said a slow, steady voice. Lucy looked up. In the water, pushing up from the sand so his head was above the waves, was the massive turtle.

"Purpoise! Good morning! I'm so glad you stayed!" Lucy got up to race forward, and accidently splashed the already-wet turtle. He blinked. "Oh—sorry. I'm just really happy to see you. Why are you in the water?" She put one hand on his smooth, soaking wet shell, the hem of her dress now covered in sand.

"A turtle must be wet, young one." He was pulling himself slowly forward as he spoke, two front legs reaching out and pulling his shell and body along. Lucy kept pace. "It will be a hot day."

Lucy nodded. "Susan says we have to stay inside this afternoon, and _not_ go finding things to fight. Or trouble. Or anything else. But she let me come out here this afternoon. She's been _mothering_ lately." The turtle stopped pulling and swung its head to look at her, and she sighed. "I just—there's so much to explore!"

Purpoise moved again. "The sea is very, very, very large," he said, pulling forward on each "very." "But we do not expect newborn turtles to know all about it from the moment they enter the water."

Lucy smiled, and leaned against his shell when he stopped, sliding down to the ground. She nearly fell over when he moved again, turning around to view the sea. He apologized, with a slow, deep sorry that also held a smile, and they both moved to watch the waves.

"How much of the sea have you seen?" Lucy asked.

"I am not sure how to tell you that, young Queen, in measurements you can use. I only know the old ones." His voice was regretful. Lucy thought for a moment, then jumped to her feet.

"I know! I'll go get it!" She turned, then turned back, remembering her manners. "You'll be here, right? You don't mind waiting a moment?"

Purpoise blinked, a long, relaxed blink. "I am comfortable in the sun right now. I am not going anywhere." Lucy, excited, nodded and raced away, all the way back to the Cair's library. One of the sections farthest from the windows had been a wall covered with maps. She went to one of the sea, pulled over a chair, and carefully took it down from metal hooks driven into the stone. It would be near the beach - how was she to keep it from getting wet? Oh, there! She rolled it up, and grabbed one of the blankets from the chairs they used when it got chilly in the library. It would get sandy, but better it than the map. She and Purpoise could just back up a bit. Carrying the rolled up scroll in one hand and the blanket tossed over her shoulder, she made her way more carefully down the stairs, through the halls, out of the courtyard, and back to the beach.

Purpoise, at her request, moved backwards at a slow pace till they were far enough away from the falling tide she could spread the blanket out and put the map on it, right in front of his long neck and face. He lowered it a bit, peering at the map.

"King Dwarfsteel had that made," he said. Lucy perked up. This was a king she hadn't heard of.

"King Dwarfsteel? Was he a dwarf?"

The turtle shook its head, wagging on the long neck. "No. Aslan made Sons of Adam to be kings, not dwarves." Lucy nodded; she remembered some of the Narnians saying so. "But King Dwarfsteel was stubborn, as stubborn as the sons of earth. He was king in my earliest years, when I was just a turtle hatchling. The turtles told us they'd been driven to this beach because of pirates. And the king - a young king then, very young, but not, older than you, he told them to draw lines in the sand to make turtle nests, and none could pass the lines without our word." Purpoise's chin, forehead, and neck creased in his smile again, then slowly faded. "But the Narnian King was named for steel, too." Purpoise shook his head. "He was dangerous, Narnian Queen, more dangerous than a dwarf sword from a soldier."

"Why?" Lucy asked.

"Because he was colder, more biting, and deadlier than steel if you wronged him, or his kingdom." The turtle shook his head and sighed, strong enough to breathe a way a small dip in front of the blanket. "He died younger than most kings do. Narnian kings, anyway; there's a list longer than I've been alive of Tisrocs that don't live as long as he did. He fell fighting at the giants' border because they'd laughed at his knights and almost stomped on them, the sailors of the queen's ship said when they brought her home. He wouldn't let anyone else punish them, not even their own kind. Don't be like that, young Queen. Forgive people. There's too much hate in the world as it is." Lucy thought of the White Witch, the way her face and voice breathed hatred when Aslan Himself was bound on her table—and the way the knife had been raised. Hate killed, and she shivered at the thought of one of Narnia's true rulers hating like that. She brought her eyes back to the map spread in front of them.

"Can you tell me where you've been?" she asked, trying to bring the conversation back to what she needed to know. "On the map that he had made?"

"He loved maps, he did," Purpoise said. Lucy bit her lip. She was learning things - Narnian history - but she wasn't learning much about Narnia and the world _now_. The turtle rambled on, though, and it would be rude to stop him. She was, after all, here to _listen_. It just seemed a bit hard right now. Maybe it was something for her to get better at. "... And that's why his queen was at sea when it happened. They shared that love, the two of them; fell in love in ship, when a little racoon girl climbed the deck rails and fell overboard and they both jumped in to get her. The future queen got the girl, put the little one on her shoulder and didn't even mind the frantic scratches, and King Dwarfsteel grabbed her under her arms and was pulling her towards the ship till she told him she could swim, and he was interrupting her strokes, thank you very much though. And the whole bale (1) of turtles laughed and nudged them nearer to each other, and the racoon girl jumped onto my sister's shell and took her back to the ship, but the other two stayed in the water and had a race to see which was faster. He spent the rest of the trip leaning over the rail by her side or swimming with her in the water. We loved them both. He died far too young, far too young for someone who loved that so much." Lucy leaned a little harder against the turtle's side at his grieving voice. "We're told Aslan takes them all in His time, but His timing is very peculiar from our point of view. It's better than ours, you learn that, young Queen, much better. Looking back at the story proves it. But still, there are questions. _Why_? Why take a king and leave a turtle?"

"Maybe because, a hundred years later, I'd need the turtle to tell me about the Lone Islands, and other places," Lucy said softly. Purpoise smiled, the slow smile that took several seconds to reach all of face.

"You'll be a good queen, one of His." Lucy felt her heart warm at his praise and ducked her head; the praise of the praiseworthy is above all rewards. And he had loyalty and wisdom. "King Dwarfsteel sailed every summer; sometimes his queen went with him, and sometimes she went when he had to stay at home. We took to following their ship, about forty of us; he timed his sails to when we migrated when he could. First for the company, but his ship was wrecked, one time, swamped in a storm, and him and and all his crew were saved, because we were near. I had two, clinging to my shell, struggling to keep them in the air in the storm, and get them to the shore two days away afterwards. We took them here," he leaned forward and touched an island labeled "Galma" with his nose, "and they were given a right fair welcome, ship or no ship. Galma's a half an half island; half are Aslan's own sailors, and half love gold above any god. The were the pirates that chased us out from that first beach; and by that they saved the king's life, for we wouldn't have been following him if we hadn't been born on his beach and talked with him as he sat in the sand. Aslan's timing, indeed. Good out of evil." He withdrew an inch from the map. "There's a lot to be said for that; a lot to be said when you're old enough to see it and still smart enough to say it, little Queen. The right fair welcome they gave him? He gave it back, as generous as he was stubborn, and that was what the Galman queen needed to fund enough soldiers to cut down on the pirates. A funny circle. He and the Galmans were friends ever since. Sailors at heart; they joked he had Galman blood." Lucy looked at the island he'd been pointing to; it was the closest to Narnia. Pirates and warm welcomes; she'd remember that. Almost 150 years ago.

"What about now? Have you been there recently?"

Purpoise angled his head to one side. "I swam past there before coming here."

"Was is it like now?"

"No more Narnian welcomes. I can remember them like yesterday." He looked sad, as sad as a wrinkled turtle can look. "Are you thinking of going there, young Queen?" Lucy nodded. "They would welcome that, I think. Narnia has much to trade. The pirates keep to the east of the island, but your ship will need to be fast. I can tell you what the hulls look like, how high to build the masts. If you learn how to sail in Narnia's waters, you could out-run any pirate ship."

Lucy's eyes sparkled at the thought of it. Pirates, a chase, a new skill to learn - Narnians _loved_ to learn. And they had a teacher. "Will you stay?" she asked. "If we built a ship - will you stay and teach us?" Purpoise yawned, nodding.

"Not today, young Queen. Today it's time to for me to sleep." He closed his eyes, pulling legs and head into his shell. His slow, deep voice echoed inside it. "I will see you tomorrow."

Lucy remembered court tomorrow, remembered the questions she wanted ask about it. "Tomorrow," she agreed. "In the morning. I'll see you then!" And she raced back up the hill, to tell their head librarian (a fussy duck named Mr. Gilsir) all about Galma and to ask their steward who she should talk to about shipbuilding. She couldn't wait to learn more about Galma. And old Narnia. And everything else Purpoise had to say.

OOOOO

(1) Apparently that is what a group of turtles is called. A bale. Who came up with that idea? It can also be called a herd, but bale is the technically correct term. (I just keep thinking of bales of hay, floating at sea, with four flippers moving them onward…)

Response to Anonymousme on "Hosanna" (if you read this): Thank you! I intend to keep writing - just not this week. This week is a break. But thank you for reviewing, and for enjoying the story!

Response to Aslan's Daughter on "Hosanna" (if you read this): Thank you. I had some doubts about the progression (especially since I was so tired by the end of it), so it's good to hear that went well. Thank you for reviewing!


	3. Chapter 3 Court and a Turtle

**Chapter Three: Court and a Turtle**

Disclaimer: To be just and fair, I must admit no ownership of Narnia.

A/N: This has a little less of Purpoise in it than I'd like, but it's because I'm setting up the situation, and that got out of hand. Sorry!

Lucy did not make it down to the seashore the following morning. She meant to, she truly did, but Susan and Edmund agreed the four needed to go over King Lune's letter one more time – Peter had written to him with questions about how a court of justice was held in Archenland and the kind king had responded at length. The four discussed how to alter it so that there were four rulers instead of two, but Lucy started to lose interest. This was taking so _long_.

Long enough she hadn't time to make it down to the shore; the four went straight to the Hall of Thrones. But she stopped in the library on the way and sent fussy Mr. Gilser and his assistant beaver with pen and parchment to take notes on shipbuilding, and she asked them to tell Purpoise she was sorry. She hoped that was enough to stop her from being rude.

Court was a _mess_, Lucy decided. King Lune's letter gave examples of cases where his subjects had a dispute about where a border between homes was; Narnia had people who had no idea where the actual _home_ was, having deserted it for better hiding places years ago. And while the four had explore the Western Woods quite a bit, there were large parts of Narnia they knew nothing about, and they gravely asked those people to come back in a week. After some long…boring…drawn-out…tedious—that was a word, wasn't it?...discussion that left the eight-year-old yawning, a solution was proposed. Susan and Lucy were to find representatives from different parts of Narnia to tell them about the land, and Peter and Edmund were going to get feathered scouts to map it – particularly since all the snow-melt had created some rather dangerous rivers. Lucy kind of wanted to go see them.

But after that came the _fun_ part of court. A good deal of Narnians had come out of hiding because they wanted to see their new kings and queens, to thank them, and Lucy found herself bouncing down from her throne and sitting on the floor, talking to a group of them that chirped, chattered, bellowed, and barked all around her in a glorious cacophony of noise. _This_ wasn't boring. She liked this, with people all around. Her group got larger and larger, and eventually she felt a gentle hand – a human hand – on her shoulder, and Susan bent down to her ear.

"Could you please take your group over to the side of the hall? It's large enough it's hard for supplicants to get through to the thrones," Susan said with a gesture behind her. Lucy immediately got up, and was going to apologize, but Susan was smiling, so Lucy just waived her hands at the – wow, yes, this was a very large group – of Narnians and led them over to the side, where she sat down again, a panther sitting respectfully on one side, three rabbits on another, and gaggle of creatures in front. Trying to do what Susan would do, Lucy organized them with the smallest in front, gradually getting larger, till the two bears and three centaurs were at the very back, and asked one of the birds to go to the kitchen and see if there were any snacks. The bird came chirping back in a few minutes with news that the kitchens were bringing tea, and Lucy happily drank it while finding out which Narnians were from where, and asking a few of them to promise to come back the next day to help map out Narnia. Susan, Peter, and Edmund would be so pleased. _And_ she didn't have to do the boring part of court.

Court was closed at dinner time, and the supplicants – including Lucy's group, which had changed members gradually over the afternoon – all filed out. Peter, Susan, and Edmund came down from their thrones as Lucy stood up.

"After the first bit, that wasn't quite as hard as I thought it would be," Peter said, taking his crown off his head.

"At least half of the Narnians have more common sense than most humans," Susan agreed.

"And the half that have _no_ common sense are looked after by the species that do. I wouldn't really want too many rabbits for neighbors," Edmund put in wryly. He sighed. "And they respect the authority Aslan gave us. How did things go over here, Lu?"

Lucy told them all about the people she had met, names that she tried to tag to personalities when she saw their faces glaze over at the list of names, and where they'd been from, and good it had been to talk to them all. She stopped only when they'd left the hallways and reached Susan's chambers, where they normally ate. The discussion changed after that, the other three discussing news of the fell creatures they'd learned from complaints; there appeared to be three large groups moving through Narnia, and the others were wondering if they should wait till Narnia was mapped ("It's only a week, and it would make things much safer if you knew the area," "A week where they keep killing people, Su,"). Lucy kept quiet; she hadn't heard any of this.

"And there's the Absence complaint; what on earth are we to do about that?" Edmund added, swishing his silver spoon in his soup.

Peter and Susan both paused, and Lucy looked from one to the other. "The absence complaint? What's that?"

Peter answered. "Narnians who had lords who organized their portion of Narnia, a place to go with complaints that was less than a day's travel away. The trouble is, most of them were humans, descendents of younger sons and daughters of Narnia's old royal family. And most of them had to flee or be killed. The Narnians want them back. Or want new ones appointed."

"But we can't do that until we've settled there's no one with a right to the lordship, or we'd be taking it away from them," Edmund added.

"So we have to find them. Lucy, didn't you hear any of this?" Lucy shook her head at Susan's question, and Susan frowned, setting down her teacup. "Lucy – I think…" she trailed off. Lucy looked at her expectantly. "I think you need to stay on your throne during court," Susan said finally. Peter looked up in surprise.

"She cleared out half the line just by talking to them, Su. It went twice as fast with her handling them separately."

"Yes, but she misses a lot of the really important things. And it makes it look like she doesn't have the same authority we do. She's already so much younger, Peter. I was thinking maybe a separate court, one for welcoming those just coming to see us…"

"And then we could all meet more of the Narnians as well. Su's right. The way court happened today will end up unbalancing Narnia, Pete. We're supposed to rule together, and if we handle all the justice and leave Lucy on her own to handle the welcomes, it'll set a bad example."

"_Lucy_ is _right here_," Lucy pushed in. "I liked the way court was run today. I liked meeting all the people."

"But you missed out on most of the problems," Susan said gently. "And we want your thoughts on those, Lucy."

"Then can't I just give them later, over supper?" Lucy heard the whine coming in her voice again, and bit her lip. But she didn't want to sit on a throne for hours listening to problems and not _doing_ something about them. She liked her version of court better.

"I don't think-"

"It's not a good idea, Lucy," Peter broke in, and the others went quiet. "They're right, you need to learn how to handle all parts of being queen, including court. And we need to mingle with the Narnians as well. We'll set up a separate time to welcome those who want to meet us." Lucy clenched her hand around her fork. She couldn't argue; Peter followed and they led, the other three had agreed on that. But she didn't like it.

"I think it's time we all went to bed." Susan broke the awkward pause.

Edmund grinned, a memory coming up, and said in a teasing tone, "Go to bed yourself, mother!" Lucy smiled with the others, and went to her own room to try to sleep. But it was a long time, and several one-sided conversations with Aslan, before she drifted off.

She went directly to the seashore the next morning, heading straight for where Purpoise was sunning himself on the sandy shore. "Good morning," she said, remembering to be polite and not jump headfirst into what _she_ wanted to talk about. He blinked his long, slow blink, and she felt a bit of the tension easing off her shoulders. There was something about talking to him that was _good_. Maybe the way he listened. He had so many good things he had to say. But just talking to him made her feel better.

"Good…morning." He paused, and she waited to be sure he was finished talking. He spoke more slowly when waking up. "Your…majesty."

"I'm sorry about yesterday," she said, remembering. "I _wanted_ to come, but we had our first court yesterday." She made a face, a little of the tension coming back.

"I have not been…to a human court," Purpoise said, seeming to wake up a little. "What is it like?"

"_Boring_," Lucy said, kicking at the sand. "Lots and lots of talking about lots of problems. And all I can do is _sit_. I don't know enough yet. Not like Peter and Susan and Edmund." Her voice got a little higher. "And I thought I found something good to do, something _I_ could do, talking to people, but the others think I should pay attention to what's going on. And they're probably right, Purpoise, but it's boring and I don't know what to do during it!" She sniffed and rubbed a hand over her nose. She would _not_ cry. Valiant queens didn't cry.

Purpoise didn't seem to notice. He was swinging his head slowly back and forth, scanning the beach. "Do you know why we picked this beach, little queen?" Lucy looked around with him, noticing the even sand, the clear water, the swimming merpeople.

"It's beautiful?" Just looking brought back a large measure of her joy. This, _this,_ this beautiful land, is what she had been given to reign in.

"It is safe, little queen. A turtle is born with a shell and four legs and a deep, deep, deep need for the water." He paused to view the sea stretching to the horizon before them. "But they are not born with speed. And you were not born with wisdom." He nudged her shoulder with his head. "They have to learn to walk, from the ruins of their first shell on the beach into the water. They must crawl, a long, hot, boring crawl. I still remember mine. The water looked so far away, and I wondered why the nest had to be placed so far from it. I did not know about the tides yet. But I made it, finally, and found that the crawl had strengthened my four legs enough I could swim, I could live in the water I was born for." He paused again. "You were born to be a queen. But you are a girl yet. Be glad those around you are making your journey to your birthright safe while you learn to be strong." Lucy leaned against his shell, resting her head on it, and gazed at the blue sky. They sat that way, sunning, quiet, and a gradual contentment stole over her. Perhaps she could remember this feeling next week in court.

The shell under her moved slightly, and she sat up. Susan was coming down from Cair Paravel to the beach.

"That is also a queen." Lucy looked at her, suddenly glad that yes, this was her sister. From the way Susan moved, graceful, purposeful stride, walking with a gentle authority, head up and eyes watching, a small smile on her lips – Lucy's sister was a queen.

_Also_ a queen, Purpoise had said. She smiled again, her wide smile, and bounced to her feet to greet her sister with a hug, holding tightly. Susan held her a moment longer than usual, and Lucy knew she'd been worried, so she looked up and laughed. "Come meet Purpoise!" she said, her enthusiasm making her tug her sister's hand. Susan sank down with a laugh of her own.

"I have come for no other purpose." She regarded the turtle gravely. "Well met, good cousin."

"Well met, Aslan's queen," Purpoise returned. Lucy bounced again as she saw Susan's shoulders relax a bit at the slow, even tone. There was something _good_ about Purpoise, she thought again.

"I have heard my sister speak much of you, including the story of your friendship with King Dwarfsteel." Lucy tilted her head to one side; Susan was speaking more formally than usual? Why? "Good cousin, may I ask how long you plan to reside in Narnia?"

"I have promised your sister shipbuilding help."

Susan glanced at Lucy, then back. "We would be glad of your input, Master Purpoise, for we must confess our ignorance in these matters. But my brothers and I have realized we need your help with yet more. Good cousin, you swim the seas?" Purpoise nodded, the funny nod with his entire head and neck dipping into the sand. "Would you in your kindness undertake a trip for us?"


	4. Chapter 4 Only by Sea

**Chapter Four: Across the Sea**

Disclaimer: The sea belongs to the only God, the ideas belong to Lewis, and the joy of writing this particular tale is the only thing that belongs to me.

Purposie watched Queen Susan steadily. "I have done so before," he answered in his slow, thoughtful way. "What are your needs, Aslan's Queen?"

Susan laced her fingers together, looking down at them a moment. "Purpoise, may I ask you some questions?" Purpoise nodded, and Lucy saw amusement crinkle the edges of Susan's eyes at the way his whole neck bobbed, though it didn't break through her control of her mouth. "One, how does one appoint an ambassador or messenger to other kingdoms? Two, for the past kings, were you solely a messenger, or did you act in a greater capacity? And three, what do you know of Narnian ruling?"

Purpoise waited a long moment before beginning, and Lucy, mind racing, wondered if he'd answer directly this time, if he'd respond to Susan's clearheaded way of putting things or if he'd veer of into reminiscences again. "When King Dwarfsteel asked the older turtles, he'd come down the water and ask one of the ones he knew to take a trip, and tell him the message for all to hear, and then he'd swim with us. Sometimes we'd pretend to try to drown him. He liked us to test how long he held his breath. Gave the merpeople a fright, one time. It almost became a battle, merfolk immobilizing us in the water, us bashing their heads with our shells. But King Dwarfsteel swam between, his hands, strong as any dolphin's tail, and separated the ones fighting. He got a good laugh out of it, when things were calm. After he'd thanked the merfolk for their protection. All the sea things loved him. Sometimes I think the waves themselves would roll at his bidding. But some were more formal about it, Aslan's queen. They'd send an official to the shore and ask for volunteers. Sometimes it was a turtle, sometimes a gull, if it was close by, sometimes a mermaid or merman. Though they kept to themselves for most kings and queens. Ruled themselves, and went as a favor. Most turtles thought it a privilege. I did, for King Dwarfsteel. Though I softened his words, sometimes. He ranted about Galma's pirates to the queen, one time. I changed his words, and went and told Queen Dwarfsteel what I'd done, and she smiled. That smile made it worth the long walk up that path you came down. It was a smile as bright as the sun rising over the sea. She loved her king with all her heart, but she knew him. So I suppose one could say I used my own discretion. And sometimes getting the message on land is difficult, for a turtle. We're half-adventurers when we're sent."

Susan was smiling by now, eyes and mouth together, and Lucy was smiling with her. It was the Narnia they loved at an older time, with a history of good kings and queens. Lucy was glad of that. She'd thought for a while they had all been bad, because the White Witch had been ruling when they came. But it made her proud, in a happy, solemn way, to know that she was a part of lots of kings and queens who did what Aslan said, and made Narnia a good, happy place. As Purpoise said, they brought that happiness back.

"And three, good cousin, do you know, from your travels, where any of Narnia's former lords or ladies reside now?" Susan asked.

Purpoise nodded, his head again almost touching the sand and then raising above his shell, front flippers waving too. "There's a settlement of them at Galma, a group of seven families whose lords were close as brothers. Actually brothers, too, two pairs of them. They gathered four more families and the Galman king gave them permission to settle in one of the wilder parts of the island if they could chase the pirates out. Stories filtered to the sea, even to us, of the war they waged; with Aslan's own wrath, it was said, that they couldn't take out on the evil here. The pirates have been weakened ever since, for the last hundred years. The seven lords led them, ruled them. Their grandsons and granddaughters live there now. But a few families went farther, to the Lone Islands, as they were a part of Narnia. Three of them stayed - at least, we never saw them embark again. We'd sailed with them, grieving, and the sound of the merfolk's wails of sorrow won't ever leave any from that trip. We grieved with them the loss of their home, but the merfolk grieved the loss of good kings and queens, and the loss of air above their home, the shore locked in ice. Their song was fit to break your heart. I've wondered if the three stayed because they thought they'd still be a part of Narnia, out on the Lone Islands. But three more went further, beyond the Lone Islands, and we all turned back. We had our own seas to swim, and Aslan hadn't called us further. They never came back. And many were killed defending Narnia before it fell. Swimming beside the ships we heard the list of names, whispered by over twenty lips, every night. They remembered the ones sent to Aslan's country. Once a year the grandchildren still do it, standing on a cliff in Galma, saying the names with one voice, the sound echoing over the sea. I'm only there for it some years; but I remember, too. I remember the grief."

Susan's breathing had quickened, and Lucy could tell she was excited. "Purpoise, do you know if any of them will want to come back? Now that Narnia is free?"

Purpoise thought for a long, slow moment. "Those at Galma will. Many of them. I do not know anything about those the Lone Islands. But I could find out. Only, Aslan's Queen, they will want some sort of proof."

Susan frowned, Lucy mirroring her. "Like what?" Lucy piped up.

"A royal seal, a group of Narnians, or Aslan Himself," Purpoise told them solemnly, listing them off with a pause between each. Lucy and Susan looked at each other.

"We haven't royal seals yet," Lucy pointed out. The dwarves were working on designs, but the four hadn't chosen anything. Peter wanted something with a sword and a lion, Edmund something incorporating broken chains - though Peter said it should be a broken wand - and Susan and Lucy had been sidetracked by a record of past queen's seals their fussy librarian had unearthed for them.

"And we certainly can't command Aslan to go." Susan paused. "Though we could ask. But I'd rather not rely on it, unless He tells us He'll be going."

"So a group of Narnians it is," Lucy said. "Susan, can I go?" Her sister looked at her, and Lucy put on her best pleading expression. She wanted to _see_ the other lands out there, to meet the people of Galma and give them a reason to welcome Narnians again, and to go tell the families who had been exiled that they could come _home_. Who wouldn't want to come back to Narnia?

She kept the pleading expression in place, even though Susan was frowning. "I don't know, Lucy. Not without talking with the others. But you've been most helpful, cousin Purpoise," she said, rising. "May I ask you to lead this voyage to the islands, then, Purpoise?" As the turtle assented, Susan said briskly, "Then we'd better find a way of sending people with you. I'll bring it up over dinner tonight. Would you like to join us?" Her tone was courteous, kind - the one she was so good at. Lucy looked hopefully at Purpoise.

"I am tired today, Aslan's Queen, Young Queen. But I would like to come another day. Perhaps we can discuss how to get to the island then." He looked directly at Lucy, head level with hers. "Seek Aslan's will on that, young queen, and not your own." His tone held a hint of warning, and Lucy nodded. She took Susan's helping hand up, and curtsied to him before walking back with her sister, still hand-in-hand. She had a thought and grinned, swinging their hands a little.

"Susan," she said, "do you think my seal could have a turtle on it?"

A/N: Sorry it's shorter than usual. I had another nephew born today! In another state. So...we're taking an unexpected journey, and while I hope to come back to finding the house in good order, it's left little time or mental fortitude to write. My apologies! Well, sort of. I'm certainly not apologizing for spending time with a new nephew!


	5. Chapter 4: Part II

**Chapter Four Part II: Across the Sea**

A/N: This was to be the second part of the last chapter that I never got around to writing before I took a whirlwind trip to another state. So again, my apologies for it being short. I wrote it before I was supposed to be awake this morning.

Susan laughed, head thrown back, nearly tripping on a root that obligingly moved. Lucy smiled at the Dryad in thanks. "I'm sure, when the time comes, you can pick what you have on your seal," she said when she'd regained control. Her tone was the compassionate one she used when giving unwelcome advice. "But Lucy, you may want to rethink that. You're anything but similar to a turtle." Lucy thought of Purpoise's slow, steady presence and wandering stories and sighed. She agreed, but she still liked the idea. She'd think about it more later. "Come on," Susan said gently, sensing Lucy's disappointment. "There's plenty of time to pick one out. Right now let's go tell the boys the good news." Lucy grinned, snatching her hand from Susan's and beginning to run.

"Race you!" she called over her shoulder, and she heard Susan's outraged cry of "Lucy!" from far over her shoulder. Panting, she reached the courtyard first, Susan nowhere in sight, and leaned against the stone wall. When Susan came in sight she straightened and ran forward, grabbing her sister's hands and whirling them both around in a circle, laughing. "I won!" she exulted. Susan, laughing again, slipper her hands out of her sister's.

"Yes, you did," she agreed. "And now we're both breathless but in time for dinner." She led the two inside.

Edmund and Peter were late that night; they'd been caught up in a training exercise for an attack on Cair Paravel. Both were talking enthusiastically when they came in, pointing out areas of improvement and talking about the most exciting moments. The girls got caught up in it too, Lucy asking if she could join in next time and Susan asking the same. By the time the two boys stopped talking - their mouths were full of food, and Susan made sure they kept good table manners as practice for feasts - Susan was ready to deliver their own news.

"We've found some of the exiled Narnian lords," she said quietly. Peter and Edmund both grew more serious, and Susan outlined what Purpoise had said. Near the end Lucy caught a glance Susan flicked to Edmund as she spoke about the lords in Galma. Peter did too, setting down his fork.

"What is it, you two?" he asked.

Susan and Edmund looked at each other, silently communicating as to who should take the question. Edmund sighed. "We went looking for them because we need to know if there's anyone with the right to certain Narnian lands." Peter and Lucy nodded. "What happens if there's one who has a right to the throne?" he asked quietly.

"But Aslan made _us_ kings and queens!" Lucy protested. He had, and she couldn't imagine doing anything except what He'd instructed.

"Which legitimizes our right but doesn't negate theirs," Edmund said, though his tone was non-confrontational.

"What do we do if there's two claims to Narnia's throne?" Susan added, weaving her fork through her fingers. There was a moment of silence.

"We could share," Lucy said. "There's already four of us." Peter smiled at her, the graveness lifting from his face, but Susan spoke before he could.

"They'd have to accept Peter as High King. There has to be a High King if there's many kings, and they'd have to accept his authority. And it would make it much harder, to have another person rule with us. We're barely doing it on our own."

"They could be a regent," Peter said, thinking out loud. "We're all young. It'd actually be easier, for a few years, if there was an adult. Especially one who knew how to rule. It'd give us time to learn." The other three nodded, though it made Lucy feel a little queer. She couldn't imagine _not_ ruling Narnia. Not when it'd been given to them. But it would make it much easier, to have a few years to learn how to rule while someone else did.

"But all this is borrowing trouble," Susan said. Lucy had a sudden echo, a memory, of a tall woman she'd loved saying the same thing, the same way. Her mother, she realised. "We don't know if there is an heir to Narnia's throne. We just thought we'd better be ready if there was."

Peter agreed, picking up his fork and beginning to eat again. "Let's focus on the problem ahead then," he said after he'd chewed. "You said there might be some problems getting the exiles to return?"

Susan told them about what Purpoise said, about proof, and the difficulties with royal seals, Aslan, and how it meant a group of Narnians would have to go. Which was difficult, seeing as there was no ship to actually take Narnians. Lucy remembered the map, though, and thought of something.

"We may not need a ship," she interrupted excitedly. "Peter, I looked at the map, it's really close (1). We need a ship because it has sails, right? But I'll be going with Purpoise. If it's a small boat, maybe he can pull me! (2)"

Peter frowned. "Pull you?"

Lucy nodded vigorously. "A small boat, like the ones the funny tall grumpy people have. And I don't weigh much. We could put some food in it, and a bag with some clothes."

"And sleeping?" Susan asked. "What if it rains? And Lucy, we haven't even said you're going yet!"

"But I want to go," Lucy said. "And we can put a cover on it. Like a tent. I can sleep beneath that. Oh please, Susan, let me go. I want to go tell these people they can come home."

"How would you get back?" Edmund asked. "It's all very well to go that way, Lu, but the point is to bring people _back_. And you can't really do that in a small boat."

Lucy thought for a moment. "We could hire one from Galma!" She started bouncing in her chair. "They're still sailors. And it'd be a way to get them to come to Narnia again, too! We could hire a ship, and sailors, and bring everyone back, and the sailors would go back to Galma and let them know Narnia's safe again!"

"We don't even know if Purpoise can pull you," Susan said, and Lucy stopped bouncing. She looked down at her plate; it was true. Purpoise was quite old. But maybe he had some friends? She looked up again to find the other three watching her.

"We can ask him about it tomorrow," Peter said, and Lucy closed her mouth. "But you wouldn't be going alone, Lucy." He smiled at the hope that spread across her face. "It'd be fitting for the High King to welcome the exiles back, don't you think?"

Edmund and Susan both looked ready to object, and Peter said, "We'll talk to Purpoise in the morning. Until then, let's just say we need at least one, preferably two of us to go, and we might have a way of doing it. We'll settle who later." He smiled again, and Lucy smiled too. Peter's smile was a good thing, something she liked. "But we're one step closing to solving this problem."

They finished dinner, talking about plans for the library (brought up by Susan), and when they'd hold the second court for subjects who wanted to meet them, and various other things that they needed to deal with. But Lucy went to bed that night with a smile on her face, hoping that soon, she'd be sailing across the sea.

(1) In _The Voyage of the Dawn Treader_, chapter 2, Captain Drinian says "We had a fair wind from Cair Paravel and stood a little north for Galma, which we made on the next day." So it is relatively close to Narnia's shores.

(2) I admit this idea came from _The Swiss Family Robinson_ movie, where the turtle pulls the family towards shore at the beginning.


	6. Chapter 5 Who Will Go

**Chapter Five: Who Will Go**

Disclaimer: Narnia was created by Lewis, the idea of Purpoise's hearing of the prophecy was created by Ibernsteinmm, who gave me permission to use it, and this was created by a sleep-deprived brain I must acknowledge is mine, which means I only take responsibility for the arrangement of ideas and the turtle. Turtle's mine. Or rather, Turtle's a friend of mine. I like the turtle.

The next morning Lucy woke early. Dawn was just beginning, the sun invisible but its light changing the horizon. She quickly pulled on a cloak and some boots - barefoot wasn't as much fun in the dark - and quietly hurried through the corridors and to the gate. The nightwatch were still about, and Sir Herk the Hedgehog hailed her.

"I'm going to the beach," she explained, looking down at the hedgehog. He frowned under his helmet, the only armor he wore.

"It is still dark, your Majesty. I think you should take a guard." Lucy, about to argue, paused. She didn't like taking a guard, as they often checked her most impulsive moves, but it was still dark, and she knew the things that used to lurk in Narnia's darkness. She shivered.

"I would be glad of the company." She waited a moment. "Who did you have in mind?" she asked when Herk didn't say anything further.

"Perhaps we could escort the queen," came a voice from behind her, and she turned and grinned, recognising the voice before the silhouette. It wasn't often she saw Peter or Edmund in full armor. Both stood there, and she reached up to hug them, Peter stepping forward to hug her first. He'd had a bit more practice, and sometimes teased Edmund that he'd catch up and be a s quick as Peter to get Lucy's hugs - some day.

"Why are you up so early?" Lucy and Edmund asked at the same time, and she laughed. "I wanted to talk to Purpoise about building a boat, and him pulling us, and bringing people back. You?"

"We took a turn with the nightwatch. Oreius (1) said we should know the Cair in the dark as well as in the sunlight. I think he has plans for you and Susan, too, though it'll be the next time he visits," Peter explained.

"I beat Peter round the Cair in the dark, twice" Edmund said, grinning. He seemed happier than usual, and Lucy hugged him extra tight, then let him go. He patted her shoulder, then brought his arm back and elbowed his older brother. "Told you I'd be better at sneaking."

"Then sneak us down the beach, why don't you," Peter said, scowling, but his siblings could hear the teasing in his tone. He nodded to Herk, who had been standing at attention and watching their interplay with a small smile. "I thank you for your service, good cousin, and would you mind letting us out?" Herk bowed and moved aside, and the three of them slipped through the gate, Edmund in the lead. Lucy watched him make his way with a sense of pride growing in her; he slipped down the path almost silently, and blended into the shadows as often as he was visible. Peter behind her - the rearguard to keep them safe - was quiet, but she _could_ hear him - steady, reassuring Peter. She herself was moving like the dryads had been teaching her to move in the woods, and they were noiseless, so when she spoke it was loud enough to make Peter jump and land on a twig.

"Where'd you learn to be so quiet, Ed?"

Edmund turned around, a half-smile on his face. "At that wretched school. I needed it to eavesdrop. I could only learn things to bully people with they didn't hear me listening. But tonight I realised it's something Aslan can use for good things." He grinned again, the half-smile making way for the full on. "Like beating Peter. That's a very good thing."

"It's _one thing_, Ed. You're beat me at _one thing_." The exasperated voice came from behind them, and Lucy shared a smile with Edmund at the tone.

"He beat you at chess two days ago," Lucy said, thinking out loud. "And in the dagger fight last week."

"He cheat-" Peter started, only to be broken off by Edmund.

"Reciting the rules of diplomacy to Mr. Gilsir the librarian." Edmund was visible now as he stepped onto the beach, and he was laughing. So was Lucy. "Any other ones you can think of, Lu?" Lucy shook her head, but turned to look back at Peter, who was shaking his head as he watched his siblings gang up on him. She ran back to give him another hug, the armor he wore hard against her arms.

"It's all right, Peter. We still think you're a good king," she teased. "And Aslan definitely does." Peter's gloved hand rested on her hair for a moment, then he shoved her back.

"If I'm going to be up this early and heckled by my fellow rulers, I might as well be getting something done," he complained, though his hand still made sure Lucy didn't fall. "I say, where's this turtle, Lu?" he said, scanning the beach.

Lucy turned to scan it too, looking for the round sphere that might be Purpoise sleeping. She hadn't been meaning to wake him up, just sit and wait. She could watch the sun rise till he woke.

But he wasn't there. She ran forward, Edmund and Peter following a moment later, but she still didn't see him. She turned towards the water, feeling Peter's hand fall on her shoulder.

"He wouldn't leave," she said. "He promised."

"I know, Lu," he said. "Just wait."

"But he's always here in the mornings," she protested. "Where would he go."

"I'm not sure where turtles sleep, but it might not be on shore," came Edmund's voice from her left. He stepped forward and sat down, taking off his gloves and resting his hands on the sand. She'd forgotten they'd been up since about midnight. "Sit down, Lu, and wait. If he's here in the mornings I'm sure he'll be back again."

Lucy sighed and sat, edging closer to Edmund to lean against him. "Sorry," she said quietly, when she heard Peter sit down on her other side. "Peter, I really want to go to Galma and see the other Narnians."

There was a weighted silence for a moment. "I know," Peter said at last. "Ed and I were talking about it last night. The two of us really are the best idea."

"He has authority and you bring friendship. _Really_ bring it," Edmund added.

"Susan still needs to agree," Peter pointed out before Lucy could do more than beam. He nudged Lucy. "But it's good sense, and Su has more sense than the rest of us. So we'll ask Purpoise this morning how to make a boat big enough for the two of us, and if he thinks that's enough." Lucy nodded, and tucked herself closer to Edmund while pulling at Peter's arm, bringing the three of them together. She could feel Peter and Edmund start to relax, breathing in time with the waves. Narnian sea air, in and out, in and out, as the light grew stronger and stronger and the waves sang a song of water and rhythm. This, she thought, was a good morning.

Purpoise came soon after the sun was fully up, a half hour after they sat down (2). He swam in on the waves, digging his feet in the sand to hold against the tide's pull, and rushing forward again with the next wall of water. Lucy jumped to her feet as soon as she saw him, pointing him out to her brothers who rose more slowly. "Purpoise! Purpoise!" she called, and his head bobbed in greeting. Peter's hand on her arm stopped her from plunging into the water to meet him - it would be cold, she realised - and so she danced on the edge of dry sand, waiting for her slow-moving friend to arrive. "Purpoise, this is King Peter, and this is King Edmund, my brothers," she said as soon as he could hear her. Purpoise blinked.

"Good morning, young queen," he said, and Lucy had to calm herself. She forgot how s...l...o...w...l...y he s...p...o...k...e. "You have two brothers?" She nodded, reaching out to take their hands. "And, one sister?"

"Our sister Susan," Peter said. Purpoise was still blinking, with slow regularity.

"You are the four," he said at last. He took a few more steps forward, and bent his front legs, his shell angling towards the ground, and Lucy realised he was bowing as he rose to all four feet again. "The four to fill the thrones in Cair Paravel? The four that gave the exiles hope?"

Lucy blinked, unwittingly copying Purpoise. "Well, yes, but-" He waited, more patiently for her to finish than she sometimes waited for him. "But is that important?"

He shook his head, then his whole body, side to side, drops running off him, and then walked slowly forward before turning around to face the ocean. "By your leave, your Majesties, this old turtle will sit." Peter, Edmund, and Lucy all nodded - Lucy couldn't help thinking how funny that must have looked - and she went to her accustomed place beside him, Peter and Edmund choosing to sit just beside them. "It is important to me," Purpoise said at last. "I told you, I think, of the wails of sorrow that bore the exiles to sea." Lucy nodded, running one hand through the sand. It wasn't her favorite part of the story. "But there was one thing they clung to, one reason the exiles came back to the cliff every year and remembered Narnia, one reason they held to their home when they lost all else. Aslan told a carver to make four thrones and place them in Cair Paravel." His voice rumbled, deepening, almost echoing when he drew his head back partway into the shell. "We knew the Witch did not need four thrones, and Cair Paravel never became hers, though she claimed it as Chatelaine. It was a promise, to all who heard of it, that the Witch's reign would end, and Aslan-made kings and queens would sit in those thrones again. It meant there was hope for the exiles, hope for a future."

"For a return," Edmund said, voice strong, and Purpoise's head sank down to the sand in a nod, resting there after. Lucy felt a weight press on her.

"So, they're waiting for us?" she asked in a small voice. "We're their hope?"

"No, young queen, _you_ are not." Purpoise's voice was both comforting and firm. "Nor is the High King, Aslan's Queen, or Aslan's Judge. You are the fulfillment of the hope, but it was Aslan who gave them the hope, and brought hope to reality." Lucy breathed out in relief. Of course, this was Aslan's doing.

"And it's probably Aslan sending us now, Lu," Peter said. "Purpoise, we wanted to ask you about that. Lucy and I would like to go to Galma with you, but we haven't a boat. Can you help us build one, one small enough for two, but big enough for that trip?"

Purpoise thought that over. "If the beavers would help, yes. A boat for two...a raft, I think. A raft would do. With a sail. And us to guide it. I must ask my friends, if they will help the kings of Narnia once again. But two is a little number, High King. Too little, I think, for this."

"How many more?" Peter asked quietly, and Lucy remembered he was just a boy, too, as well as a knight and a king. A boy about to go on an adventure, and who wanted to be smart.

"A Talking Animal, I think. Proof that Narnia is free again, and you are from Narnia. A kind of animal a Narnian would trust."

"Peter - how about a badger?" Lucy said suddenly. "You remember what Tumnus was telling us about them? They're unchanging; he kept saying they hold on (3). Let's take a badger with us."

"I know of a badger family with a son who was too young to fight in the war and is looking for another adventure instead," Edmund put in. "I can ask if one or two of them want to go. If you can keep them from going overboard."

"And a bird, too, perhaps," Peter added. "Just so there's two witnesses as well as two kings, like those rules _I do have memorized_ say are required." He grinned impishly at his brother.

"I'm sure Tumnus's friend the Robin would like to go," Lucy added.

A deep, slow laugh, gradually building until Purpoise's entire shell was shaking, sounded across the beach. "You are young, and hurried," he said, still laughing. "But your fire gets many things done, kings and queen. It is good to hear Narnians at work again. Go gather your friends, and food for half a day and a night, and whatever you wish to take to Galma, and tomorrow I will show you and beavers and others how to build a raft."

OOOOO

(1) I am intending to keep this book-verse, especially since I only ever saw the first movie, but I like the character of Orieus, and he's quite possible in Lewis's world. Though I admit there was never a centaur as a counselor staying at Cair in his stories, they seemed rather to be seers and warriors, I don't think Lewis would object.  
(2) I found out that different types of turtles sleep different ways. Sea turtles do actually sleep in the water; a few breeds (not Purpoise) anchor themselves to underwater coral, and because their metabolism slows down so much when they sleep, they don't need to go up for air to breathe. Purpoise's kind usually anchors themselves to something in the water, and sleeps that way. Land turtles usually burrow. And there were other types and they slept different ways. Just in case someone found it as interesting as I did.  
(3) Quoted from _Prince Caspian_


	7. Chapter 6 Building a Raft

**Chapter Six: Building a Raft**

Disclaimer: The geography of this world, the characters who will forever live in it, and the tapestry of story woven into it do not belong to me. Even the fairy tale isn't mine.

The instructions for building a raft don't belong to me, but any mistakes in those instructions probably do. I looked it up online, having never built a raft. I thought about having them make a canoe (though I've never made that either), but since those are easy to tip over and rafts are a bit less so (I've been on both, and only went in the water in one), I went with raft.

And thanks and credit go to Ibernsteinnm for the LWW characters cameo in this chapter; I do hope I do the idea justice!

But I kind of feel like I didn't, because this chapter took forever to write, and I never like the end result when that happens. But hopefully it's enjoyable.

OOOOO

The rest of that day was very long. For three of the siblings, anyway. Breakfast woke them up a bit, but by lunchtime Lucy had pricked herself three times with a needle as she helped repair a tapestry (but after the first time she stayed quiet about it since it had been hard to persuade the two motherly foxes to let her continue after the first time), and she found herself continuously dropping books when she tried to help at the library. By dinnertime they were yawning, adn Susan regarded them all with amusement, sending away the guards at the door.

"Peter," asked Lucy suddenly, blinking down at the colorful fruit on her plate, "have you ever built a raft before?"

"We never had the money to go to the country before, so there was never an occasion," said Peter, somewhat dryly.

"Peter - what happens if we're in the middle of the ocean and it breaks?"

Susan set down her cup with a thump and a slight tremble, but Peter was unperturbed. "Then you get to ride a sea turtle the rest of the way," he said, and Lucy's face lit with a slowly growing smile.

"I'd like that," she said, interrupting herself with a yawn.

"Perhaps _you_ would, but I'd rather arrive at Galma dry and with our stores and clothes intact."

"And perhaps all three of you would like to go to bed now," Susan said, setting her silverware gracefully on her plate. "No protests," she said, as Edmund and Peter opened their mouths, "Orieus told me how late you were out last night. If we're building a raft tomorrow, you're going to bed." Lucy blinked again, and got up, and nearly fell onto the table. A gentle, strong hand caught her arm, and Susan tugged her towards the door. "Come on, Lu."

Susan saw her all the way to her chamber, helped her undress, and opened the windows without Lucy even having to ask. Lucy smiled, pulling her covers up over her shoulder with a happy sigh. She felt Susan running a hand over her shoulder. "Sleep well, dear." Lucy turned over at the worried tone.

"It'll be all right," she said drowsily, eyes closing. "Aslan comes from over the sea, so it's His too." If Susan responded, Lucy didn't hear it, having fallen asleep.

Lucy didn't wake up quite so early the next morning, and then Susan (sensibly, Lucy knew, but still) insisted on eating breakfast, so the sun was well up over the horizon before the four were ready to go. Susan looked around at the other three and smiled. "I've arranged something I think you'll like," she said quietly. "Let's go greet the guests who will be accompanying us to the beach," and she led the way to the door.

Standing there were two small brown shapes, about knee-high, standing on their hind legs and looking around.

"Mr. Beaver! Mrs. Beaver!" came a chorus of shouts, and the four rushed over to the first animals who had spoken to them in Narnia, and who had helped to shelter the future kings and queens. Mr. Beaver's sense and bluntness had made him a priceless counselor in the first months of ruling, and Mrs. Beaver's mothering combined with her interest in housekeeping had made her an excellent teacher for much that was needed to run a castle. But eventually the two had requested to go back to their humble home in the dam, and the four had thanked them, given them a goodbye party, and sent them on their way with sad hearts.

And Susan had brought them back.

Susan, who had delayed them for breakfast, was also the one to break into Peter, Edmund, and Mr. Beaver's conversation about the types of boats he'd built to suggest they start walking to the beach, and Lucy skipped along beside Mrs. Beaver, telling her all about court, and Purpoise, and what they'd heard about the exiles, and Mrs. Beaver interjected things like "My grandmother knew Lord Peredus, she was there when he fled, I hope I get to meet his family," and "of course they'll welcome you, if they've kept up proper Narnian traditions," though she grew quiet when Lucy told her of the mourning they held at the cliff each year, reciting the names of the dead.

"We don't forget them, my dear," Mrs. Beaver said at last. "Oh, we regained so many when Aslan came back. So many lost friends. But not all of them. Growing up I had a friend, a squirrel named Hermala. She was a dear thing, who'd greet every morning with a praise to Aslan. Whispered, of course, but every morning she'd greet the light. One of the Witch's dryads overheard her once, and the White Witch sent a hungry wolf. She's gone to Aslan's country, and I want to meet her there again some day. But we don't forget them; we can't. There's no reason to think these Narnians have either."

By now they were on the beach, blinking in the light as they left the shadowy path. Purpoise was waiting, and Lucy broke into a run.

"Purpoise! Purpoise! Mr. and Mrs. Beaver came to help!" She turned, introducing the three of her friends to each other. Mrs. Beaver said a gentle hello, and Mr. Beaver a busy one, and then the entire group looked at Purpoise expectantly.

"Trees," he said slowly. "Trees."

Of course, thought Lucy, we need trees for the raft. "How many?" she asked.

"Big ones," Purpoise said, his voice even slower than normal, as if he was thinking out loud. "Big, but the same size."

"And how many do we need?" asked Mr. Beaver, a tad impatiently.

"Eight floating trees, for the raft," Purpoise answered. "Eight. And two more."

The group looked at each other, confused, and Susan spoke up. "Are the two trees to be different from the eight, good cousin?"

Purpoise nodded, a slight up and down movement, still in where his head had taken him. "Eight should be four lengths, two should be five lengths."

"And how long is a length?" Edmund murmured to Peter, laughter running under the words. Peter gave him a quick grin and repeated the question louder.

"A length," Purpoise repeated, and and fell on his belly as he mimed swimming forward.

"A swimming length!" Mrs. Beaver and Lucy chorused together, and together than went to the water, and measured a length to be about two feet.

"Eight logs of eight feet, two logs of ten," Mr. Beaver muttered under his breath, already turning towards the forest beyond the beach. "Hey, lads, look sharp! No oak (1), it's heavy, doesn't float well. Light woods we'll need, poplar, cottonwood if you can find it, or spruce. And nothing that feels heavy; those're for the bottom of a dam, not the top, and it's not on the bottom you'll be wanting to be."

Susan and Mrs. Beaver went to look together, the boys went in separate directions, and Mr. Beaver had already disappeared, a skill he'd learned as a necessity in Narnia's winter. Lucy stayed with Purpoise.

"Have you built a raft before?" she asked.

"I have not."

Lucy blinked. "Then how do you know what we need?" she questioned.

"King Dwarfsteele had to build a raft on an island once. His boat was wrecked. There were only three turtles and two merfolk, and the swim was long, and he did not want us tired. And we could not help him cut the logs, but we rolled them, and held them in the water. And I asked him what he was doing, to quiet the frustration within him and the worry, so he would focus on his hands." He sighed. "His worry was for nothing. His wife and crew were fine, and looking for him. He had taken a lifeboat to the island to pick his wife flowers, but it had been too dark, and he had missed the rocks. But the more we built the raft, the more he smiled, for he loved a challenge. And he taught us, as he worked, so that we might know how to help others in turn." He smiled. "And so I am. He would be very pleased. I will have to tell the others who are going with us."

Before Lucy could ask more than a few questions - he'd spoken to other turtles? Had they agreed to go? When would they leave? How long did building the raft take? - the two heard a shout from the trees.

"Purpoise! Would this tree work?" in Peter's battlefield volume.

Lucy looked towards the forest, but of course, they weren't bringing it out; it was a _tree_, and they wouldn't cut it down till they knew they'd be using it. She stood and looked down at Purpoise. "Can you make it through the forest?" she asked hesitantly. She didn't think sticks and bushes would be good for his flippers.

"No," he said, his neck becoming an angle to look up at her. Lucy bit her lip.

"I don't think I can carry you," she confessed, looking from his large bulk, as large as her upper body, to her own small arms. "But I can try!" She put her arms around his middle, the fingers barely touching on the other side, and pulled up, his "No," coming too slowly to register before she was pulling.

Purpoise didn't budge.

She took a deep breath and tried again, straining with all she had; he dragged a scant half-inch along the sand. She sank against his shell, panting.

"Lu! What are you doing?" Edmund and Peter were coming out of the trees; they must have met in the forest after Peter shouted. Lucy was too out of breath to answer them.

"Lucy, you can't lift him," said a gently scolding voice. "And we'll just tire ourselves out carrying him. No offense intended, good Purpoise."

"I am big because I am old," he answered simply. Susan nodded, relieved that she hadn't misspoken, and continued gracefully,

"I think we should send for a cart, one of the ones the moles used to cart the flowers they replanted the gardens with. It should hold you easily, Purpoise, and it rolls, and Peter and Edmund can lift it over any of the larger obstacles. If it would not offend your dignity?"

"I have swum in the ocean, walked the streets, and been carried aboard a ship, but I have never been in something that rolled," and the turtle's tone was amused. "I would be glad to try this new thing."

Susan went off to get the cart while the others went back to the woods, looking for more trees, though Mrs. Beaver stayed with the pair on the beach this time. Lucy had a suspicion Susan had asked Mrs. Beaver to make sure Lucy was ok.

She was. Purpoise was just _heavy_. She wondered if she would be that heavy when she was very old.

In the meantime, Purpoise let her know that they would probably be finished building the raft that day or the next.

"But it'd be a good thing to test it in the water first, dear," said Mrs. Beaver. "You mustn't think of leaving so quickly. Why, you haven't even asked any others to join you yet." And Lucy had to agree.

Lucy had fully recovered from trying to do the impossible by the time Susan got back, and her sister let her be the one to pull the cart, though it was accompanied by an admonishment to be careful! Peter and Edmund were recalled to help lift Purpoise into the cart, and his shell fit perfectly, though his four limbs drooped over the wooden edges and he drew his head in to make sure it didn't hang over as well.

"Lucy, you take it," said Peter, smiling at her. Lucy ran to the front of the cart, where a thin rope had been run in and then out of two holes, then looped. Lucy grabbed it and pulled, grinning widely when the wheels rolled along behind her, leaving tracks in the sand. She turned towards the forest.

She was, however, almost running, the others several feet behind, and she was half-way up the beach when she heard a deep, slow voice behind her.

"Young Queen, it would be a kindness for you to slow down and not rattle an old turtle quite so much."

Lucy looked behind, and saw to her dismay that Purpoise had splayed all four legs inside the wagon at the corners, trying his absolute best to stay inside. She slowed down at once. "I'm sorry, Purpoise."

"No harm done, Young Queen. But turtles do not often move at such speedy paces, and the older we get, the slower we move."

Lucy turned back towards the forest, walking this time, and hearing a little muffled laughter behind her. "You know, I heard a story about a slow turtle," she said suddenly.

"Indeed?"

Lucy nodded. "He ran a race against a rabbit."

"That was uncommonly foolish of him. Turtles are not made to race rabbits. Turtles are not made to run."

Lucy giggled. "He was a land turtle. And the rabbit ran so fast he got tired, and he was so far ahead he decided to take a nap. But the turtle kept going, and when the rabbit woke up from his nap, the slow turtle won, and everyone was glad, because the rabbit wasn't very nice."

"Perhaps that turtle was not so foolish after all." Purpoise paused, his voice echoing off the wood a little. "I would have liked to have seen the rabbit race the turtle in the sea."

Lucy giggled again at the image. But she continued pulling, into the first of the trees, and finished, "I should have remembered turtles don't run, from the story. I'm sorry, Purpoise. Are we going to sail slowly too?"

"The turtle would have won the race even if the rabbit hadn't napped, if they had raced in the water," Purpoise said. "I forgive the thoughtlessness, Young Queen, and I will try to remember you are land creatures once we set sail."

Lucy stopped, having walked almost into a bush, the car rattling into her heels. She started to tug it sidewise, but almost tipped the cart. A quick hand on the side stopped it; Edmund stabilized it. The others had caught up. He and Peter turned the cart, lifting it together, Mr. Beaver giving directions, and Lucy pulled it to the tree they had found. Purpoise and Mr. Beaver both approved it, one as a light wood and the other as sound wood, nice and straight. Edmund had found another not far away, and with Mrs. Beaver helping - who had a very good eye for the right kind of tree - they soon found the others, making sure they were empty of dryads. Mr. and Mrs. Beaver cut them down while the children cleared a path through the brush to get them to the shore, Purpoise watching from his cart, as his flippers were not made to grab wood or brush. Several squirrels, birds, and even two deer found their sovereigns and started helping, and Susan sent one of the squirrels with a request for rope, and the two deer harnessed themselves to the fallen trees and pulled them to the beach. For the first four trees, as the beavers were still tumbling the rest, Edmund and Peter (they didn't let Lucy have a hatchet) cleaned away the branches and knots, while the two girls stripped them of bark. At Susan's suggestion they piled the extra wood on the beach, for a bonfire later. Once the beavers came to the beach they took off branches and all four stripped the trees of bark, and by lunchtime they were done. Susan invited everyone up to the castle for lunch, but only the Beavers came. They ate quickly, with little conversation (despite Susan's attempts), eager to get back to the raft.

Purpoise was still in the cart, head and limbs out, enjoying the sun, when they got back to the beach. He woke up slowly, yawning with his large turtle mouth. "It is a good day," he observed to them. "We swam to the other side of Narnia before on such a day. But the calm came before a storm." Lucy, recognizing the beginnings of one of Purpoise's stories, glanced at her siblings and motioned for them to remain quiet. It was the polite thing to do, Purpoise had taught her.

But while her siblings caught on to her hand motions, Mr. Beaver didn't. His shorter legs had trailed him a bit behind the children and he missed Purpoise's beginning. He interrupted with a brisk, "What's next?"

Purpoise swung his head to view the group on one side of him. He must have read their eagerness, because for once he forwent his story to give instructions. "Notch the logs on each end," he instructed. "The shorter logs. A notch as deep as my flipper," he said, holding it up, "and as wide as the log. It will help to keep the shorter logs on top of the longer logs that will lie on either end of them." He paused. "I suppose they should be cut evenly, so lying the logs side by side would help." The children dragged the eight logs till they were side by side, making a rough square, and this time Peter and Edmund let Lucy and Susan help chip the notches in the end, three Narnian robins landing on the logs and watching with curious eyes as they worked.

Lucy, swinging the hatchet (with at least one sibling keeping a watchful eye on her), concentrated on the wood. Lift the hatchet up, swing it down,_ thump_. Pull back, wrestling it out of the wood. Lift it up, swing, _thump_, duck the piece of flying wood. Peter's _thumps_ were deeper, louder, and wood always went flying (Lucy saw when she took a moment to breathe, leaning on the log), but the notch she was working on was getting a bit deeper, and it was wider than when she started. She was proud of it.

By the time she finished most of the logs were done, the Beavers having helped as well. She looked around; Purpoise's cart was empty. He was headed towards the sea, and she ran to walk with him. Her siblings saw where she was headed and came as well, Peter pausing to swing each hatchet into a log to keep them off the sand.

Purpoise stopped once the water came up to the bottom of his neck. "Bring the two long logs into the water." Knees soaked, Lucy turned and pushed, on the middle, since the stronger people were on the ends. By the time they were at the water, all of them except Mr. and Mrs. Beaver were panting. The pair of them were used to moving wood ("though generally in smaller portions, or we fell them already floating," said Mr. Beaver). Purpoise had them place the logs where they floated a few inches above the water, parallel but far apart. Susan and Lucy held them in place, Lucy scarcely needing to bend over, while Peter, Edmund, and the two beavers dragged over the rest. The dragging got easier as the water got deeper, but holding the two floating logs in place while Peter and Edmund lifted the shorter one and set it on top was difficult. But the first time the log dropped and sent up a large splash, Lucy laughed, and all her siblings broke out in grins. It became a splash-fest as well as a raft-building event, and all of them got thoroughly soaked by the time all the notches on each end of the eight logs were set on the two floating, longer logs, and the square was held in place. Susan and Lucy kept on hand on each edge of the square, and Peter stood between it and the sea to make sure it didn't float away. Edmund seemed to be studying it, Mrs. Beaver on his arm. (She'd watned a better view, could you pick me up, dear?) There was a bit of each of the eight logs sticking over the two floating logs (which had sunk farther into the water), but Purpoise, pulling himself over a bit more swiftly than on land, looked pleased.

"Purpoise, how will these stay in place?" The question was in a polite tone, but Susan looked worried.

"We need rope," said Purposie, nudging the floating square with his nose. "Two long ropes. Very, very long. Long enough to loop each side at least twice."

Susan looked over at Peter. "Do we have that?"

"Not here," Peter replied. "You think you can hold it in place?"

"Here," Edmund said, coming forward to take the end and gently setting Mrs. Beaver on the raft. She thumped the logs with her tail.

"It's good wood," she said approvingly, and Mr. Beaver, swimming around in the water (though he didn't think much of the salt) agreed. Lucy ran her hand on the log, the smooth texture. She really wanted to sit on it, but she was pretty sure that was a bad idea until the logs were tied in place. She silently wished Peter good speed.

"Purpoise, how will they steer the raft?" Susan asked.

"Better wait till Peter's back, so he doesn't have to teach it twice," Edmund interjected. But he pushed at the raft a little. "I can't wait to find out, though."

"Steering will have to wait till we have a sail," Purpoise said, lifting his head out of the water to speak.

"But can we climb on it today?" Lucy _really_ didn't want to wait till tomorrow.

"Yes, as soon as it's tied." Purpoise was smiling again, and Lucy was sure he knew how much she wanted to ride the raft.

"Which it will be soon - look, there's Peter!" Edmund was scanning the shore, and Lucy turned, keeping one hand on the square. Peter was running, and she smiled as he splashed through the shallow water and the waves rocked the raft like a cradle.

"All right, here it is," Peter said, a little breathless. He needs to work on running too, Lucy thought. She tried not to make that thought sound _too_ smug.

Purpoise swam over to Susan. "Please lift me on the raft, Aslan's Queen." As Susan put both hands on his shell, he added "You can roll me, if you cannot lift me. It will not hurt." Peter walked - as slowly as turtle on land, Lucy thought, it's funny how they became like turtles in the water - but by the time he'd gone around the raft Susan had taken Purpoise at his word, pushing him against the logs and up, his flippers waving through the air as his shell rolled onto the logs, and Lucy started giggling. It was infectious, and soon the whole group was laughing - quietly, trying not to - as Purpoise regained his balance on the drifting logs. He smiled with them, and pulled himself over to one end, the logs tipping a little under his weight.

"Over here, High King," he said to Peter, and his bulk blocked Lucy from seeing, but she heard "Now under that log," and "cross it over the top," and "now under the next log," and as the pair moved slowly down once side of the square - the side with one of the two floating logs underneath - Lucy saw they were looping the rope twice around the intersection of the two logs, criss-crossing it to make an X, and then doing two more loops on the bottom of the X, then moving to the next log. They did that all along one side, tying it off at the end, and then they did the same to the other floating log on the other side of the square. Since one side was tied, Lucy let go, and Peter showed her how to tie the rope. When it was done, the four looked at each other, smiled, and all jumped for the raft.

It flipped.

Peter dived for Lucy, tucking her under him and turning so the logs wouldn't hit her, and Susan had pulled Edmund out of the way but they'd tripped, so the four came up sputtering and blinking a moment later.

"Where's Purpoise?" Lucy gasped, looking around. There was the upside-down raft, but where - "And Mrs. Beaver?!"

"Here, dear," said a wet, gruff voice, and a little paw patted her arm. "Are you all right, Your Majesty?" she said to Peter. He hadn't let go of Lucy yet.

"Fine, thanks," he said in a slightly strained voice, and Susan frowned and came over.

"Let me see your back," she said, and Lucy was torn between that and finding her friend.

"He will be fine, Aslan's Queen," came the deep voice, and Lucy breathed a sigh of relief for both of them. "The water shielded him." Susan lifted Peter's shirt anyway, and saw a small bruise but nothing worse. "High King, you are going to have as many stories as King Dwarfsteele, but for different reasons, I think," Purpoise added. Peter smiled ruefully.

"I think you may be right, Purpoise." He turned towards the raft. "Come on, let's flip it back. Ed, can you get the other side?"

Mr. Beaver went to help, and Susan and Peter took the other side and flipped it easily. Lucy wasn't tall enough to help, but she grabbed it at the end anyway.

Peter looked around at the wet crew. "Let's put it back on the beach," he said. "Lu, you want a ride back?" He caught her under the arms at her nod and lifted her gently onto the logs. Lucy sat, knees drawn up, smiling more and more widely at the gentle rocking motion as her siblings and Mr. and Mrs. Beaver pushed it in to land. She got off when it hit the sand, and helped drag it up above the tide mark, then walked back to the water and her friend.

"Goodbye, Purpoise. I think Susan wants us to get dry. But we'll see you tomorrow!"

"Goodbye, Young Queen. Tomorrow," and one of his eyes dropped in a wink, "we'll make it sail."

OOOOO

(1) From what I remember (I don't have the books handy and I could only find _Prince Caspian_ on my grandparents bookshelves, though they had multiple other Lewis books), Lewis used the names of normal, earth trees for the homes of his dryads, so I'm doing the same.

A/N: For those who like the idea, and who like good stories, Ibersteinmm is writing a story "Under the Sea" which is a funny crossover that came out of an author's note on "Home" and a resulting conversation.


	8. Chapter 7 Steering a Raft

**Chapter Seven: Steering a Raft**

A/N: I would just like to point out that geeks are indeed taking over the world - I Googled "How to Sail a Raft" and the first result to come was a guide for how to sail the raft in _Zelda Breath of the Wind_. I did momentarily consider having Peter and Lucy sail that way, but realised I wouldn't want to deal with the resulting mess of magic.  
The next guide was about sailing the raft in another video game, _Atlas_.  
The third option was about sailing an actual, physical raft, but I opened up the page and the news scroll at the top said: "Special notice regarding stacking cannons in gunports…" I think I may need to hang out with people who sail rafts more.  
Wait, that was for Atlas as well. Only Reddit had something on sailing an actual raft. And that conversation was archived.  
I guess I'm going with my imagination, then.

Obviously, I own this version of sailing a raft with all of its improbabilities (since I've only paddles a kayak, canoe, and done white-water rafting where boats aren't made of logs, and aren't square). Nothing else in the story, though. (Purpoise is too much of a person to be owned.)

OOOOO

Only tomorrow came, and with it came the opening of several new rooms in Cair Paravel, one with a pile of disused weapons, one with severe damage to the walls but a plethora of squirrel-sized furniture, one relatively empty, and one with the skeletons of those who had fallen defending Cair Paravel and had been moved there and laid in straight lines. Peter worked with several members of the guard to give the bones a Narnian burial, Susan supervised the restoration of the squirrel habitation ("They'll make excellent messengers, Peter, and it only makes sense to make them a home, I'll ask the Dryads to help grow potted trees in there"), and Lucy and Edmund went through the weapons with Orieus, giving the useless ones to dwarves as payment for repairing damaged ones, and working to polish and repair the ones that were only lightly rusted. They worked all day, and dinner that night (just the four of them again) was very quiet. Lucy slept well.

The next morning the four met for breakfast a few minutes after the sun rose. Lucy, eagerly scooping up eggs, paused. Susan was worrying her lip. She set her fork down, ready to ask what was wrong, but Peter noticed at the same time.

"I say, what is it Susan?"

Susan set her fork down as well, looking at her plate. "Are we right in doing this, Peter? Sending you and Lucy away, I mean."

"I thought we agreed we needed to. What's wrong?"

"The work yesterday," Susan blurted. "There were four of us, and it's good there were."

"The work," Edmund said, understanding. Susan nodded.

"What happens if we have more work than Edmund and I can do while you're gone? We're not even sure how _long_ you'll be gone."

"Then the work waits till it can be done," Peter said calmly, taking another bite of food. "We weren't quite ready to be kings and queens yet either. But Aslan made the four of us for a reason, and I can't imagine he'll mishandle things to the point you drown in what needs to be done while we're away, Su. Cheer up."

Lucy thought Peter had an excellent point, though she thought the two of them were probably getting the easier job, the _adventure_, while they left Susan and Edmund with the work. But she didn't think Susan really wanted to go sailing on the raft, either. Not for a full night.

"And we'll do all we can before we leave," she chirped. "But can we go now, Susan, please?" Susan acquiesced - with a smile that looked a little bit tired - and the other three took their last bites and stood, pushing the chairs back into the table and catching up their plates and silverware to take down the kitchen. It was a habit left over from that other place, back in London, and they did it any time they ate alone.

It was an overcast day, and the wind coming off the sea was chilly. Lucy, once again running ahead of her siblings, made out the green sphere of Purpoise with two small brown dots - the Beavers, and ran towards them. When she arrived she heard Mr. Beaver say in grumbling voice,

"I still say Sons of Adam should have tails."  
"Or that they should at least take someone along with them who has one," added Mrs. Beaver in a worried voice. "Wood's all very well, but what if they lose it overboard?"

"Then we will pull them. That is why I am taking four friends," said the deep, calming voice of Purpoise. His head turned towards Lucy. "A good morning to you, Young Queen."

"Good morning, Purpoise. Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Beaver. Why should we have tails?" she said curiously.

"The turtle had us make those, over there," and Mr. Beaver jerked his head to the other side of Purpoise. Lucy ran around and saw two curiously shaped, smoothed pieces of wood. They each had a long handle like a pole, that broadened on one end into a flat, oval shape, not unlike the shape of a beaver's tail. One was distinctly smaller than the other. "He says they're for steering," Mr. Beaver added.

"What fun!" Lucy exclaimed. "Purpoise, are we going to learn to use them today?"

"It would be wise, Young Queen. A fair wave and a good morn to you, High King, Aslan's Judge, and Aslan's Queen."

"Aslan's greetings to you, Purpoise," "Good morn," and "The same to you," echoed from Lucy's siblings, and she looked over Purpoise at them.

"Look, Peter, what we get to use today!" and she picked up the smaller paddle, running her fingers over it. Someone besides the beavers had been at work, she guessed, for it was smooth, with nothing to catch or splinter on her fingers. It was beautiful.

"It's a paddle," said Edmund's interested voice from over her shoulder, and she felt him peering from behind her. He reached over and felt the wood. "I say, this is beautiful work. Peter, can I use yours?"

"Let me have a try first, Ed. Purpoise, can we go now?"

"Push the raft into the sea, High King, and we will begin." And Purpoise pulled himself forward with his slow, strong pulls, heading for the water, while the beavers and humans turned towards the raft, still resting above the high tide mark. Lucy noticed tracks around it, of all kinds, and wondered how many Narnians had come to view the work the day before, when they wouldn't be in the way, and smiled to think of them jumping on it, peering through the logs, and examining the notches. But her focus shifted back to the present as the others began moving the raft. Peter and Edmund had brought rope, which they tied around the front log and pulled while their sisters and subjects pushed. Lucy stood beside Mrs. Beaver, and smiled at how much bigger her small hand was next to the dark brown beaver paw. It did not take long to get the raft's two bottom logs floating just above the sand, with everyone working.

"Further in, or you will ground on the sand when you add weight," said Purpoise's voice, and Lucy found him just on the other side of Mrs. Beaver.

"He says good sense," said Mr. Beaver briskly. "You all get on that and it'd sink right into the sea floor. Right. Further in!"

They went further, and further, and still further, till the water was above Lucy's waist, and the raft was rocking on the waves. Still Purpoise went further, and Lucy felt hands scoop her up and place her on the raft; Susan's, gentle but strong. "We can push it in the water now, Lucy, and it's getting too deep for you." Lucy rolled further onto the raft, accidentally rocking the raft into her brothers.

"Oh, Peter, we forgot the paddles!" she said, looking back to the beach.

"We didn't, Lu, I've got them," and Peter lifted up one hand that had been resting the paddles against the logs. He tossed them all the way on the raft, stilling it as Purpoise turned around.

"Up on the raft," said Purpoise. "Mr. and Mrs. Beaver, if you would join them, I would be grateful for your help."

"Help doing what?" puffed Mr. Beaver, scrambling up with an agility Lucy admired. Of course, she thought, beavers often climb longs.

"Steering." Purpoise swam to the side closest to Peter, lifting his long neck up so his words came clearly over the water. "It is you Aslan entrusted to steer Narnia, so we begin with you here as well, High King. Pick up the larger paddle." Peter did so, both hands clasping the top. "Humans do not hold the paddle that way, High King. One hand around the top, and the other lower down, so that you may control the movement." Edmund picked up the other paddle and copied Peter's hold, then passed it to Susan to try. She did, altering her grip to make it more comfortable, then passed it to Lucy. She held it with rising excitement. They were _sailing!_

"That is better, High King. Now watch Mr. Beaver and his wife. Their tails will steer the raft (1)."

"Our tails were made to guide us while swimming _beside_ the log, not on top of a whole pile of them," grumbled Mr. Beaver, but he padded over to the side and stuck his tail in, Mrs. Beaver copying him on the other side. Lucy watched while they dipped their tails in the sea and pushed against the water.

"Watch," said Purpoise gravely. And Lucy did, kneeling as the raft gathered speed, rocking harder on the waves, and imagined pushing against the water with the paddle in her hands. "Now, good beavers, turn the raft." And the beavers did different things, Mr. Beaver continuing to push the way he had before, but Mrs. Beaver pulled instead, and the raft, to Lucy's delight, started to spin. Faster and faster, as the busy beaver tails worked harder, their claws clutching at the logs as they pushed and pulled with their strong tails, and Lucy felt as if she were on a child's spinning toy, and let go to kneel upright and clap her hands with delight.

That was a mistake, she recognised a moment later, as the spinning force swept her right off the raft. "Lucy!" she heard the cry right before the water closed over her head, cold, salty, burning her eyes and cradling her body. She splashed her hands, trying to reach the surface - which way? She choked off a scream, remembering not to waste her air, and tried to spin, to find the light, to look _up_.

Something hard was suddenly under her stomach, pressing on it, and she was moving, moving _up_ she realised a moment later as she broke through the water into the air, sputtering and gasping, clinging to the surface beneath her.

It was Purpoise. She was riding him, sitting on him like a chair. She drew in a precious, air-filled breath and a moment later a hand was on her arm, then one on her leg. All three of her siblings were treading water beside her, reaching to make sure she was ok. "Lucy!"

"I'm fine," she gasped, trying not to shiver. "I'm fine, I just let go."

"Well _don't_," said Edmund crossly, and she looked at him mutely. She truly hadn't meant to.

"Back on the raft, Kings and Queens. All of you," and Lucy looked forward to see Purpoise's head craned so he could see along his back. She slid off his back slowly, reluctant. But her siblings were holding her immediately, towing her back to the raft and making sure she had a hold of it before letting her go. Peter heaved himself up first, reaching back to give Susan a hand, then Edmund, who was closer. Lucy shivered; the sea seemed much _larger_ now that she had been inside it. But something hard bumped her arm, and she looked over to see a green shell and black eyes in a long sympathetic face. She relaxed, arms loosening (though not her fingers still resting on the rough wood log). "Thank you," she whispered to him, and he nodded. Purpoise made her feel even safer in the water than he did on land. Hands closed on her arms, and she looked up just in time to see Peter as he hauled her aboard. Susan was waiting, one of the ropes the boys had used to haul the raft in her hands. She tied it around Lucy's waist and then around one of the logs.

"Good idea," Peter said. "We'll do that for the trip, Su, promise." Lucy closed her hand around the rope, tethering her to the log. It made her feel safe as well.

"Let's head back," Susan said.

"No, don't," Lucy replied, looking up at her siblings. "I'm fine, really. Let's not, _please_. I want to learn how to sail." She looked from Peter, brow furrowed, to Edmund, who was watching her with that look of his, keen-eyed, growing more penetrating the longer her ruled, to Susan, whose look was relenting. The three animals were silent, waiting. "I really am fine."

"All right," Peter said after a moment. "If you're sure." Lucy nodded, and Peter turned back to Purpoise.

And Mr. Beaver, who had also dived in the sea (Mrs. Beaver having sensibly stayed to slow the raft's circling motion), shook himself and spattered water all over them. Lucy laughed, reaching back to grab her hair and wring it out. They all took a moment to breathe and twist the water out of their clothing, best as they could, and then got back to their lesson.

Peter and Susan proved to be quick studies, Susan especially capturing the graceful motions of rowing ("steady," Purpoise kept repeating, "steady and strong"). Edmund could have been, if he hadn't become preoccupied with learning how every motion of the paddle affected the raft's movement, and then later with splashing Peter ("You're already wet!") and his sisters ("It's your _fault_ we're wet, Lucy! And I thought Susan could do with the bath, she smells!"). Lucy fell in love with her paddle, which had been made for just her size. Purpoise insisted she and Peter grow accustomed to rowing together, and she found she had to make two strokes for every one of his strong ones, but by the time they rowed the raft back to shore (and that was, Lucy admitted, exhausting, and she was so glad when it beached), Lucy and Peter had found a rhythm that worked.

Lucy was very, very tired, and between being wet, the rowing, and the fall into the sea, did not really want to pull the raft out of the water. But it had to be done, and Peter and Edmund once more fastened the ropes to the logs and their waists, and they began dragging it while the others pushed. Once it was (finally, Lucy thought) high enough, Lucy turned back towards Cair Paravel, and stumbled in one of the drag marks. Hands caught her (they seemed to be doing that lot, her tired brain thought), and before she could even thank Peter, he'd swung her up onto his back.

"Come on," he said to the others, "let's go home." He turned towards the Beavers. "Would you like to come now as well?"

"We could have the fauns draw up some baths, so you can wash the salt out," Susan offered.

"Thank you kindly, your Majesties, we'll be right up, after we clean up the woodchips," said Mrs. Beaver. Peter nodded (Lucy could feel his hair brushing against her cheek), and turned to Purpoise.

"Thank you, good cousin, for all your help. And for helping my sister," he said gravely. Purpoise regarded him for one of those long moments where he thought, then looked at the other three, Lucy resting her chin on Peter's shoulder, Susan standing beside him, and Edmund coiling up the rope on top of the raft.

"It is my pleasure to serve you, your Majesties," he said, and bowed. Lucy lifted her chin, startled. He'd never called them that before.

Peter seemed to understand what Lucy didn't - maybe he was less tired, Lucy thought. He bowed in response - Lucy grabbing his neck to make sure she didn't fall off - and said "Till tomorrow, then." Lucy fell asleep on the way back up, waking when Peter set her down in her room, and Susan made sure she washed and ate something before going to bed. Lucy snuggled under the covers.

I need to remember to ask Peter about...something tomorrow. What was it? Oh, right. What Purpoise meant, when he didn't call us Aslan's Queen and Young Queen and such. She fell asleep on that thought.

OOOOO

(1) I am learning a lot about turtles and beavers in this story. Including random facts about the pope classifying beavers as a fish in the 16th century, so they could be eaten during fasting days; that they were almost hunted to extinction but aren't endangered now, and a lot more. But I did find out their tails do act as rudders, so this story isn't _too_ far off...I mean, not more than you would expect from a story about talking beavers boarding a raft and teaching humans to sail, right?


	9. Chapter 8 Preparations to Leave

**Chapter Eight: Preparations to Leave**

Disclaimer: Otnay Inemay

The next morning it was rainy. _Not_ a day for practicing going out on the water, Susan said; when Peter pointed out they might need to learn to sail in the rain, Susan rebutted that such weather probably shouldn't be their second lesson. A dryad went down to the shore and came back, curtsying and saying Purpoise agreed; and he had things for the Beavers to do that day, to complete the raft ("What do you think he means? What more's it need?" whispered Lucy to Peter; he shrugged, concentrating on her and the dryad both at once). So the four stayed inside.

And found they were badly needed. Their people, while accepting that the four ruled them for the good of Narnia and her subjects, still had trouble bringing to mind that they could actually interrupt their sovereigns when the four were busy with something else. Susan inquiring what needed to be done brought for a flood of helpful "If you could kindly look into this, Your Majesty, I think it might be a secret passage and we're not sure what to do with it," "And if your royal brother has the time, there's a missive from a country we haven't heard from in a hundred years, someplace called Calormen, wondering about the state Narnia is in," "And please, your Majesty, a herd of mountain goats have arrived, bringing herbs as gifts, and I haven't the slightest idea what to do with the herbs or the goats, but I do believe they want to see you." Susan and Peter shared a look, and then Susan raised her hand for quiet.

"Willowmere, please make a list of all the things that any of the four of us could attend to; and a second one, perhaps, with a name by the task if it needs a specific person? And please feel free to use my pen and paper, just over there." The waving dryad curtsied, pushing her long locks from her face and moving to the side of the room.

"Well," said Edmund, "I guess we've got our day planned out for us." But he had his thinking look on, and Peter looked at him sharply.

"You have other plans?"

"I did," said Edmund slowly. "They can be set aside for a day or two; but not more."

"Let's see the list first," Lucy suggested, "and then you can go if we can handle it?" The other nodded, and hurriedly finished their meal, knowing they'd have lots to do after they finished. Willowmere did not take long to write the lists. Peter had one task (the letter, addressed to "The Highest Authority in Narnia Presently, for the poets say…" and it looked to be boring, Lucy thought) and Susan had one, a dispute she had handled with a few further repercussions, and the Narnians had been most grateful and wanted her advice again. Lucy asked if she could handle the goats ("we'll do that together, I think," Susan said), and all of them wanted to see the secret passage. But there was little enough the three could handle it (after the secret passageway, which Edmund said he most definitely wouldn't be missing), and Edmund went to execute his mysterious plans soon after.

The goats were delightful - though they had a habit of saying things quite firmly, with a glint in their eyes that dared anyone to challenge them. Lucy supervised the cleaning of one chamber (helping with the areas she could reach), and then helped move a lot of the items they previously found into their new treasure chamber: a room Peter had found sixteen steps down from the Great Hall with a solid wooden door that could be locked (1).

It wasn't as tiring as rafting, she decided while yawning, but it wasn't as fun either. She put her spoon down. (They were at dinner again.) "Where's Edmund?" she asked, yawning again (2).

"I haven't seen him all day," Peter said. He was yawning too, and Lucy smiled at the thought. Even High Kings yawned.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Susan said. She was quieter than normal, but she wasn't yawning yet, Lucy noticed. "How much trouble could he get into? On his own, when he's _not_ with you," she said pointedly to Peter.

"I wouldn't underestimate him," Peter said, a bit short-temperedly. "You'd be surprised how many of the bad ideas are his to begin with."

"If he doesn't have you to egg him on-" Susan started, but Lucy interrupted.

"Do we want to wait for him to go to bed?" As she hoped, that stopped their argument. They were too tired to talk, she thought. Me too.

"Wait for whom?" said Edmund's voice from the doorway, and he came in, stumbling a bit as he did so. "Is there any bread left?"

"Wait for you!" Lucy jumped up, some of her tiredness disappearing. "Where were you today? Did you get things done? Can I hear about it now?"

"Places, yes, and no," Edmund said. His voice was also a bit short, and Lucy thought disappointedly that he must be tired too.

"Then let's all go to bed soon," Susan said. "But before we do - there's something I need to point out. But I don't want an argument tonight, so can we try to think about this, a little, and discuss it in the morning after we've slept over it?" The other three traded glances.

"Agreed," they chorused.

"We can't spend all day at the shore anymore. Hear me out-" she added as Lucy protested. "We have other things to solve as well as the absence problem. And they're piling up while we're working on this. I still think we need practice, and preparation, but I think it needs to be...balanced," she finished tiredly.

I'm pretty sure this is another time when Susan's right and I don't want her to be, Lucy thought. But she remembered her promise to wait till tomorrow, and went to bed. What a lot of things there are to do in tomorrow, she thought as she closed her eyes.

She opened them with a start. I forgot to ask Peter about Purpoise's calling us Majesties! She sat up, debating running to his room.

I _could _go now. Peter wouldn't mind. He never minds.

But I would mind if he didn't get enough sleep. And he looked tired at dinner.

Bother.

But she curled up under the covers again. Maybe this is a good way for me to learn to wait, she thought. And I _am_ tired.

When she thought her next thought, it was morning.

Over breakfast all three agreed with Susan's good sense, agreeing to give a few hours every afternoon to the shore, but staying inside the castle for the rest of the day. Or elsewhere in Narnia, as needed.

Lucy ran down to the shore that morning, though, to let Purpoise know their plans. He was out in the water, letting wave after wave crash under his shell.

"Good morning, Your Majesty," and Lucy smiled widely, so happy to hear his voice again. She waved from the beach, just out of reach of the water.

"Purpoise," she called, forgetting for a moment why she'd come, "how come you don't call us Young Queen and Aslan's Judge anymore? And the other names."

Purpoise was silent, and Lucy waited, clasping her hands together, hoping she hadn't bothered him with the question. He might have been busy doing something important for turtles; after all, she hadn't found in the water this deep before.

But no, he was turning, coming back to the shore - slowly, since he couldn't actually swim in water that shallow. He made his slow way to the shore, and Lucy ran over and put a hand on his shell, content to be touching him for now.

"Turtles are not Narnians," he said, looking out over the sea. "Not many of us talk, Daughter of Eve, like you do. Only the ones whose shells are buried on Narnian shores and hatch here can think like the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve. But we are not Narnians. The sea is our home, not a single kingdom." Lucy shifted; somehow, since he'd arrived, she'd never thought of him as not being one of their subjects. But it almost made it easier to talk with him. "But sometimes, Young Queen, sometimes we meet a Son of Adam we wish to follow. King Dwarfsteel was one, one of the rare ones almost every talking turtle followed. The generosity of his heart and his love for the sea drew all of us to him; and still in our thoughts he is who we mean when we call think the words 'our king.'" Lucy ran her hand down his shell; his tone was sad again. "Such a short, short life, compared to a turtle's, and so many long, long memories keep him close, and almost alive. It is not good, Young Queen, to call back those who have gone to Aslan's country. But we are allowed to mourn them." Lucy nodded; a part of her had already wished she could have meet Purpoise's king, and she too wanted him to be alive again. But she knew she didn't miss him as Purpoise did. "Two days ago, your Majesty, your brother showed the same courtesy, the kindness and majesty, King Dwarfsteel had. And you, young though you are, already love Aslan more than all else in Narnia or in the sea. It is written on your face when you speak of Him. I think the four of you, each with his own purpose, will have a greater reign than even King Dwarfsteel. And there is much in you all that a turtle, even an old one, could follow. And your brother saw that I was offering my loyalty, in response to his gratitude, and accepted it as a true king." Purpoise paused. "I have told the others, the ones lingering outside the realm of the old ice traps. And when they have said goodbye to the waters we have stayed in for the past hundred years, they will come and meet this king, and yourself, and your brother and sister. And they will go with us, to bring the exiles home."

Lucy threw her arms around Purpoise's neck, trying not to squeeze too hard (many animals didn't like that, though centaurs didn't mind, if she didn't trip them). "Thank you," she whispered.

"You are welcome, your Majesty. But did you come down here, without the others, for a reason?"

"Oh, yes, I did!" Lucy said, remembering. "Purpoise, we had a _lot_ of work yesterday - though only three of us did it, because Edmund was off somewhere doing something - and Susan pointed out if we spend all day on the shore with you that the other work doesn't get done. And though I'd like to do that, very much - especially since I still need to learn more about sailing, and I'd like to hear more about King Dwarfsteel and all about the Narnia before the winter - Susan is right about the work. So we'll only come in the afternoons, and I'm sorry about that, but do you see why?"

"I see it clearly, Young Queen," and the rumble of laughter was back, and Lucy relaxed. She'd let go of Purpoise's neck to gesture in her long speech, but she laid one hand on his neck at the base of his shell. "Thank you," she said again.

"I will see you this afternoon, Young Queen," and Purpoise patted her arm with his head, two small taps that made her smile. She patted his neck in return, and ran back to the woods, turning to wave at him before running back up to Cair Paravel.

They came back that afternoon, as promised, and took the raft out again, all four securely tied to it with ropes. The Beavers weren't there, and Lucy wondered what Purpoise had them working on.

They came back every afternoon after that, in clear weather. Sometimes all four of them sailed, sometimes a few stayed on the beach. (Susan had put out the word that any Narnains who wanted to meet them could come to the beach during those hours, and that way many more Narnians learned the basics of rafting, and a few even made rafts of their own, with paddles shaped to odd lengths, very long for centaurs who looked very odd on rafts, very short for mice, and somewhere in between for fauns and dwarves, though the dwarves grumbled about getting wet.) Gradually Purpoise took them out farther and farther, into rougher, higher waves, and the merfolk often stayed close by, just in case. Lucy loved the chance to get to talk to them; but her favorite times were when she was rowing with one of her siblings and the two of them synced completely, without words, moving with an ease that made the raft speed through the water.

A few days after they'd mastered that (and Lucy tried rowing with a centaur, which did _not _go well and ended with everyone thoroughly wet), Purpoise told them it was time to add the Beavers' contribution. And the Beavers, with the help of several other dwarves and dryads, the dryads bending low and the dwarves grunting, brought out a tall, sturdy tree, the limbs taken off and smoothed out, and a few crosspieces nailed to the top and midway up. Attached to them was a large white cloth, cut in a triangle.

"A sail!" Peter said, excitement in his voice and hands as he ran forward to touch it. Susan looked curious, and Edmund - Edmund looked a bit satisfied.

Lucy edged over to him. "Did you know this was happening, Ed?" she asked in an undertone.

"Yes, but I won't tell you why." And he grinned, and she stuck her tongue out at him - after making sure Susan and Peter weren't looking.

She ran forward to look at as well, and all the Narnians gathered round (the few in the sea rowing back as quickly as they could). Purpoise showed them how to notch two logs in the raft ("but not all the way through, Aslan's Judge, or your brother and sister will not make it far enough"), and slip the pointed end down into it. Then he taught the four (while on land) how to fill the sail with wind, and tie it back, and made them practice for over an hour.

They didn't take it out that day, but they did the next. And Lucy learned how much harder it was to sail a raft with a sail attached; it involved a good deal of ducking. And pulling ropes, and finding the wind, and losing the wind and stalling.

But it was so, so much faster and less work than rowing. And she loved it, when she got it right. Peter was better at it than she was, but he promised her she'd have the hang of it by the time they reached Galma; it just took practice!

Within a week, Purpoise said they would soon be ready to leave. And that night, over dinner, Susan said they should fetch the witnesses Purpoise had suggested they bring; the badger seeking adventure and the robin who had first been their guide.

"The badger's been on the shore almost every day the past week, I know he'll want to come. But I'll ask him," Peter added hastily, before Susan or Lucy could remind him it would be polite.

"I'd like to ask the Robin, I haven't seen him in a while," Lucy piped up. "I'll go find him tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow is court," Susan reminded her gently, though Lucy still had to stop herself from frowning. She'd stayed on her throne, as requested, and she had to admit she _was_ learning things, like Purpoise promised, but it still wasn't _fun_. But good things weren't always fun, so she tried to smile at her siblings.

"The day after," Peter promised her. And she agreed, with a real smile.

Court went slowly, but the afternoon (teaching Susan to manage the sail) went quickly, and Lucy went to bed tired but happy.

The morning after she set out to find the robin.

The robin's name, like Mr. and Mrs. Beaver's, was Robin, though he objected to being called Mister. He was a cheerful, intelligent bird who liked singing when he was alone and listening when he wasn't. He'd had the sense to see that a group of Adam's descendents who hadn't met a talking animal before might not follow one, and so the first time Lucy had heard him speak had been a twitter of congratulations, the morning after they celebrated their victory over the White Witch, singing it from her tent pole. He'd been one of the Narnians Aslan had turned back from stone, and Lucy had loved him from that second meeting. His cheerful spirit always made her smile.

"Good morning!" she called when she reached the clearing near his nest.

"Morning! Good morning indeed!" and Robin hopped to the branch nearest her and cocked his head, looking down at her with one bright black eye.

"Are you busy, Robin dear?"

"Not since my nest was built!" And he spread his wings proudly, pointing a few branches over.

"Oh, it's perfectly lovely!" And it was, what Lucy could see of it, a round half-sphere of twigs with flowers planted in the outside.

"I think so, I think so! Only I'm finding the flowers attract bees, so I'm going to make the walls thicker. Or I was, but it was far too beautiful a morning not to sing."

Lucy smiled, listening to his song till it came to a quick close. It reminded her of sunrise breezes and rustling branches, and cheerful, woodsy things. "Robin, I've come to ask you for a rather long and hard favor."

"Oh?"

"It's an adventure. See, Peter - High King Peter, I mean - and I are going to Galma on a raft, to find the exiled families there and bring them back. Only our friend Purpoise said we needed to bring some witnesses who could let them know that the witch's winter is over, and she's gone. Robin, could you come?"

"Tell those who don't know that Aslan triumphed, the witch is gone, and Narnia is free? Sing the song that first welcomes them home? Your Majesty, I am honored to be asked," and Robin bowed so low he almost fell off his branch, and Lucy hid a smile.

"We'll be leaving in the next week or so. Purpoise said it should take about half a day and a night - what should we bring for you, to eat, and sleep?"

"Leave the nest! Leave the nest!" and Robin looked a trifle anxious, so Lucy quickly assured him that they wouldn't dream of moving his new nest.

"But we could make a box, and you could build a small nest in it, and sleep there?" she said, remembering vague pictures of hens being moved around that way when the crowds were leaving London.

"That would be lovely, lovely, lovely," Robin sang. "And food, food, berries and seeds!"

"We'll make sure to bring quite a bit," Lucy promised. "I'll go tell my sister right now! She's good at handling those things," and Lucy turned to go, only to hear a flutter of wings and feel light claws land on her shoulder.

"I will go to help you find the box," Robin sang from her shoulder, and she patted his claws. She was careful to move at a slower pace, not to cause a wind to dislodge him, and so the two arrived at Cair Paravel together.

The box was easily procured, a wooden one with high walls, a lid, and handles, so they could lash it to the raft. Robin set about building at once, borrowing strips of old ragged tapestries and broken-off twigs from the mess they'd cleared from Cair Paravel's garden.

Peter came that night to say the badger had been thrilled to be asked, and had the permission of his family, though his mother would probably give him endless lessons on deportment until they were ready to sail.

"Which should be soon," he said, stretching. They were eating in Edmund's room that night and his chairs were a bit small for Peter. "Purpoise says we're almost ready, and none of us have fallen overboard since...two days after we affixed the sail."

"Then I suppose it's time for my surprise," said Edmund after a moment, and the other three turned to him. "I didn't do this alone," he added quickly. He got up and went to the closet where he kept various things he thought might be useful. He opened its carved wooden door (a copy, as best they could remember it, of the wardrobe door in Spare Oom) and took out two long, shapeless pieces of clothing that were a light grey-blue. Holding them out, Lucy realised they were cloaks, one in her size, and one in Peter's. Edmund set them down and reached back again, and drew out a simple, well made dress, white, with a golden lion attached to the front bodice, and gold string on the sleeves, and a white tunic with the same symbol, considerably larger. Last, he brought out a beautiful, sturdy wooden comb and small sharp simple dagger, giving the first to Lucy and the second to Peter. "I know you'll take your gifts, but, well, I thought we could send these with you. Mrs. Beaver made the cloaks and things; she was thrilled to have an excuse to use her new sewing machine (3). She made the sail as well, but when I went to her to ask if she had ideas to help send you on your way, well, this is what came of it. The dwarves made the dagger, of a metal that doesn't rust easily, and the dryads the comb."

Lucy ran her fingers over the comb, then ran it through her hair. It slipped through easily, and she smiled, getting up to give Edmund a hug. "Thank you Edmund!" She reached over and tried on the cloak; it fit perfectly.

"I gave her one of your dresses to measure by," Edmund said, pulling up the hood and then fastening the clasp. "It should keep you warm at night."

"They're perfect, Ed," said Peter quietly, and Lucy looked over to see he had his cloak on as well, though the hood was down. She grinned at the way they looked alike, and yet she must look so much shorter. She reached out to touch the dress. It was soft, and beautiful.

"We'll wrap it up to make sure it stays dry; it's perfect, Edmund," said Susan, touching the other side.

"Best do that tonight, and get some sleep," Peter said. Lucy knew he'd probably thank Edmund later, a quiet thanks that would still tell Edmund _Well done, and thank you so much_. "Purpoise says we're meeting the other turtles tomorrow; and we sail the day after that."

OOOOO

(1) The description is taken from _Prince Caspian_, when the four rediscover the treasure chamber.  
(2) It's apparently dangerous to write about yawning while tired. The impulse becomes overwhelming.  
(3) The idea of Mrs. Beaver using her sewing machine was a lovely idea that came from Ibernstiennm, who pointed out it'd be fun to see her actually get to put it to use in peacetime. She also mentioned that Edmund hadn't been doing as much protecting as some of his siblings, and I thought this was one way Edmund would show he cares.

A/N: I hope this made sense; I've been dealing with a toothache (with it's constant companion, headache and earache) for a week, and though the root canal is tomorrow, tomorrow is full enough I wouldn't have time to write, and I couldn't have that! But I am rather wondering what I'll think of this when I read it over tomorrow.


	10. Chapter 9 Meetings and Leaving

**Chapter Nine: Meetings and Leaving**

Disclaimer: [Negative] [1st person absolute possessive pronoun]

There were three round green shapes on the beach the next afternoon. The morning had passed very slowly, Lucy would have said if asked; though she would have hastily added that it was very good they'd finished the large stack of mail because it wouldn't have been fair to leave it to Edmund and Susan to answer by themselves. (But she'd been very glad Edmund had taken the law-related letters. The stack of law books beside him had been quite dusty, and she was _sure_ they were dusty for very good reasons.) But she had gotten quite focused on using formal language and a quill pen (quills from gryphons wrote much more smoothly than the ones she remembered). She hoped the language would be useful when they first met the Galman exiles. Well, the Narnian exiles. They were still Narnians, she was sure. Who would want to stop being Narnian? Even Aslan had said once a king or queen, always a king or queen. Surely the same was true for being Narnian.

By this time they'd reached the turtles, and Lucy had stayed at the same sedate pace as her siblings. She wanted to make a better first impression on the other three turtles than she had on Purpoise.

"High King Peter, Queen Susan, King Edmund," and Lucy watched as each of her siblings curtsied or bowed as Purpoise said their names, and was ready for her turn, "Queen Lucy," and she dipped (she'd been practicing), and came up with her widest smile. They were so _different_, but definitely all turtles. "Your Majesties, may I present my kinsmen and friends?" Purpoise turned his head to the next-largest turtle, whose shell had a rim of white marks near the base. "This is Parable, the last to hatch from the same nest from which I was born."

"Purpoise watched us to make sure the rest of us reached the water, though with King Dwarfsteel watching over us, his actions were useless. He has been watching for me ever since. He says it is because I am the smallest, and the most foolish." Parable's voice was, surprising, that of a woman's, and flowed a little faster and easier. Still slower than a human's, Lucy thought, but like a wave incoming rather than a snail crawling. She thought she and Parable would be good friends.

Purpoise smiled, but did not respond to his sister's remarks. "This," and he lifted his shell higher, so he could nod over his sister's shell to the turtle beyond, "is Hardshell." Lucy curtised again, but when she rose she squinted. His shell had larger, fewer patches than the turtles beside him, and he said nothing, but looked up at the four with a turtle's deep eyes. "He has gone farther than any other turtle, has swum deeper, and has seen many things that I have not. He goes with us that he may see yet more."

"We are honored to have you with us, Hardshell," said Peter gravely, and Hardshell nodded.

"This last is Squint." Lucy looked around. She didn't see any last.

"Hello!" The voice was as high as a mouse's, and even more excited than Robin's on an early spring morning. "It will be my first time to go to Galma!" Purpoise smiled as the four looked around on the ground, and tilted his head to his other side, the one they could not see. The four went around, and Lucy's heart melted, prompting her to plomp right down on the sand beside the turtle a little smaller than her hand (1). "The first time to go far into the sea at all! I was just born this summer!" said Squint as he planted his front legs on Lucy's and heaved himself up a little higher to look at her. She reached down and picked him up, but quickly set him back on her lap as his four legs started flailing. "Thank you Queen Lucy!" he piped up.

"Can he make the trip, Purpoise?" Lucy heard Susan ask in an undertone.

"He is the smallest of the turtles to hatch, and that is why we are taking him where there is a raft, Aslan's Queen. We did not think your Majesties would mind." Looking down at the turtle, who suddenly decided to curl up in his shell and roll off her leg with a small thump, Lucy decided she certainly didn't. And she couldn't wait for him to meet Robin.

Practice sailing that day included fastening ropes around the logs on one side while they were at sea and throwing them to the three turtles; Hardshell took the middle and the lead, and Purpoise and Parable took the sides. Squint (barely keeping his head above the water) excitedly asked if he could be given one, but Purpoise told him to "Focus on swimming, young one. That is enough for a new turtle." And Lucy and Peter found the turtles, for all their slowness on land, could pull the raft almost as fast as they could sail with a fair wind. Lucy could tell Susan was relieved, and Edmund too.

That night was spent packing for the trip - a small bag each, with the new clothing from Edmund and a few other outfits, a bag of food, the box where Robin had built a nest, and another, larger box filled with leaves and grass for Henry the Badger (2)(Edmund had nicknamed him that, and apparently the Badger liked it). It was also covered, since Henry slept during the day and stayed awake at night. Peter said that would make him an excellent sentry.

Susan caught both of her siblings up in a hug before bed that night; and then decided Edmund shouldn't be left out, though he didn't last long before pushing her off with a "I'm staying here, Su!" Lucy was so excited she fell asleep thinking she was sure she wouldn't be able to sleep at all.

Morning dawned while she was still sleeping. Robin, singing on her windowsill, woke her up, and she sat up singing him her own, "Good morning, Robin!" He bowed with both wings held out, and flew away, calling that he'd meet her at the breakfast table. She dressed and ran there faster than she ever had before, and found Peter had still beat her. He grinned.

"Ready for our new adventure?"

"Yes!" she said, and "Yes, your Majesty!" came from the top of the chair further down in Robin's fluting voice. Lucy had finished half her food by the time Susan and Edmund arrived, Henry the Badger arriving with the younger king. He was, Lucy could tell, barely out of being a boy, and so excited that he kept holding his paws over his nose and then bowing, too excited to speak much. The four waited till all of them were finished eating, then Peter paused and asked Aslan to help on their journey. Lucy hoped they'd see Him.

The six went to the beach right after breakfast; Purpoise wanted to sail with the tide, and Lucy was looking forward to asking exactly what that meant (3). She was sure they'd have lots of time to talk on the journey.

Lucy expected the farewell to be rather emotional, but somehow pulling a raft down a sandy beach in a way that was now very familiar eased it a bit, though the waiting crowd of Narnians made it a little different. Everyone from stags, rabbits, birds, and Mr. and Mrs. Beaver at the front (Lucy had given them hugs) came to see them off, and Lucy would bet they were waiting to give one loud cheer as soon as the raft sailed. She couldn't wait. And she hoped she wouldn't accidentally foul the sail while waiving back; that would be a very bad start.

The raft was in the water, and Susan and Peter (who had the longest arms) were putting the bags on it and securing them while Henry the Badger said goodbye to his family (Robin was perched on the sail, talking to the turtles) when Lucy felt two arms encircle her from behind. She turned; it was Edmund. She hugged him back; she was so, _so, so_ glad he hugged them now. He bent to whisper in her ear.

"Take care of Peter, would you Lu? You know how he tends to get into trouble." She nodded, suddenly serious, for his tone had been serious as well. "Watch for him; I think it's one of the reasons Aslan gave him three siblings, so one of us could always watch."

"I promise," she said solemnly, and Edmund hugged her again.

"You know," and she could hear the smile back in his voice as he bent again to her ear, "I did tell Peter the exact same thing about you." And she swatted him, and they both laughed.

Susan took one more hug as well, and the four turtles plunged into the sea, Squint riding on Hardshell's back till a wave washed him right off. Then Peter's hands were on her waist, and he swung her on the raft, and she readied the sail while her three siblings pushed the raft further in, and then Peter jumped aboard, the sail filled, and the cheer she had known was coming carried over the water, Edmund and Susan waving goodbye while waist-deep in the water. Lucy took a deep breath and smiled. They were off; they were _sailing_. For the first time in a hundred years, Narnians were traveling the sea again.

OOOOO

(1) Apparently when they're first born green turtles are only an average of 2 inches (5 cm) long. I'm going to say Squint had the entire summer to get bigger, but he still isn't very big (apparently it takes ten years to grow to the size of a dinner plate).  
(2) That is apparently what badgers sleep on; and they are nocturnal. I didn't know that about them.  
(3) I looked it up, and apparently (I live in a landlocked farming state, so I am completely ignorant of these things) the tides come every 12 hours and 50 minutes. So the time for the tide will change, since days are not 25 hours and 40 minutes long...so I'm making the tide conveniently go out right when I want it to. In the morning. Because I have also read _I Heard the Owl Call my Name_ where one man tells another, "The tide-book open by the compass because you came with the tide, you went with the tide, you waited for the tide, and sometimes you prayed for the tide." So I do know it's important, just not much else about it. Also, I am not going to explain how the tide works in this story, because I have _no idea_ how the moon would move a tide in a _flat_ world. Really, I don't. I have a hard enough time grasping the concept in this world, but trying to explain how a moon, which might very well also be a person, circles a flat world that doesn't rotate and yet still pulls the water back and forth...nope. Sorry. Just nope.

A/N: I'm afraid it's a shorter chapter this time, but since the next chapter will probably have story, I'm guessing it will be longer than usual. I hope that makes up for it! Also, just a short note, how did I end up with so many characters on this trip? I'd been thinking Peter, Purpoise, and Lucy, but I counted, and there's eight. Eight adventures. A part of me wishes I'd made it nine, just for the sake of calling it the Fellowship of the Raft...maybe they'll pick up a stowaway or something. Because that would make the geek in me quite happy, even if it does give me one more character to manage.


	11. Chapter 10 A Storytelling Interlude

**Chapter Ten: A Storytelling Interlude**

Disclaimer: As the notes at the bottom will show, this story has a lot of research and knowledge that aren't mine. I'm not laying claim to anything but the mistakes, and the shared joy of Narnia. Also, the story about King Dwarfsteel was partly inspired by Scribe of Heroes, who mentioned that King Dwarfsteel became a king very young, and wondering why. I started to wonder why myself, and that led me to discover a little more about the king, recounted here.

OOOOO

Lucy fidgeted with the rope running from her waist to one of the logs. Sailing, she discovered, was more boring when farther away from shore. With a steady wind the waves still existed (1), but there was nothing to watch out for, to avoid, and very soon she was sitting cross legged on the edge of the raft, Robin on her shoulder, leaning against Henry the Badger's box. She was waiting to talk to the turtles; she wanted to ask Purpoise for more stories.

"There, your Majesty! Wait, no, that's a floating something, not a shell. There, there! That's a turtle! There's a turtle!"

"It's Squint!" Lucy said, perking up. From the box beside her came a grumbling growl, and she quieted her voice. Henry the Badger was sleeping. Well, trying to. She moved to the other side of the raft, hoping if she kept her voice low it wouldn't disturb him. Peter, standing by the sail and ropes, smiled down at her but didn't speak. He was keeping watch, she realised. Over all the lives on the raft. It made her feel even safer than the rope around her waist.

"Your Majesty!" squeaked a high voice, and Lucy laughed, just hearing it.

"Hello Squint! How is the sea?" she asked, remembering it was his first time.

"It's deep! Parable let me go where it's dark yet," he pouted, flapping his little front legs and then hurriedly swimming more as the raft moved ahead of him. "She says I can't while Purpoise is lookin-" and the little turtle's sentence ended abruptly as a wave crashed over his head. Lucy thrust her hand out to pick him up, worried, and nearly fell overboard herself, clutching the rope around the logs to catch herself.

"Lucy!" she heard from above her, as well as Robin's squawk as he fought for balance on her shoulder, but she continued running her hand in the water.

_And_ Hardshell says the same, so I haven't gone deep yet," piped the voice again, and Lucy found she was looking right into Squint's eyes as he surfaced. He was fine. He was fine, and she was fine, and she started laughing, even as Peter's hand fell on her other shoulder.

"I'm all right, Peter, I was just worried about a _turtle_ being in the water," she said merrily, and Peter sighed and then laughed as well.

"Do be careful, Lu," he said, getting to his feet again, and she nodded.

"If Purpoise was the only one telling you not to go deep in the water, would you go?" she asked Squint curiously.

The baby turtle thought for a moment, sliding down one side of a wave. "Maybe not," he admitted. "Purpoise is _really _old, and so he knows lots." His voice sank into a high turtle whisper. "But it's easier to listen to Hardshell, 'cause he's _cool_ (2)."

Lucy thought back to the silent turtle, his deliberate movements, and wondered. He was incredible, the way all of Aslan's turtles were - the way anyone of Aslan's was - but she hadn't singled him out as awe inspiring. Squint, however, needed no prompting to elaborate.

"He's been _past the Lone Islands_. And one of my uncles, which one, um, I don't know, but he said a shark attacked him before he could go in his shell and Hardshell saw it and _rammed_ the shark, and the shark was so surprised it let go, and Hardshell and my uncle both got away (3), and there was another story where a ship was lost, and it was a turtle-friendly one (I've heard about lots of ones that aren't, they keep telling me to _stay away_), and it was going towards rocks." (At this point Robin whisper-whistled in Lucy's ear, "This young turtle talks quite a bit, your Majesty. I like him, I like him.") "I love rocks, but rocks are bad for ships. Outside of the ship. Purpoise says that sometimes rocks go _into_ ships (4), and somehow they're good when they're inside but not outside, which I think is weird, so I really want to see them inside a ship sometime. I bet Hardshell has. He's seen everything a turtle has seen. Except a wagon in a forest. Purpoise told us about that and I want to try that too. But Hardshell found some of the growing things that make light (5) and pushed it on the rocks so the ship could see it, and it made it home. He saves people. It makes him cool."

Lucy smiled, thinking of someone else who did the same thing. "My brother saves people," she said in a soft voice, not wanting to embarrass Peter, but thinking Squint would enjoy the story. She told Squint about the time Peter had saved Susan from the wolf ("What's a wolf? Oh, that's scary. It's shark that can run!"), and stories she'd heard from the battlefield, the Narnians he's saved. Robin interjected his own stories. (Birds hear all the gossip in Narnia.) By the time there were finished Parable and Purpoise were also swimming nearby, and Squint was looking at Peter with adoring eyes, accidentally bumping into the raft whenever he looked too long and spluttering away again.

"He is a worthy king of Narnia," said Purpoise, pulling all four legs forward, when Lucy had told the last story she'd remembered, about a fox who'd been held to the ground by a minotaur, and Peter had come to his rescue. "And he is that, not only because he protects, little turtle, but also because he leads." Lucy smiled again; it had become a very good afternoon, where she got to think about wonderful things her brother had done.

"Purpoise," Lucy asked, remember why she'd sat at the edge of the raft to begin with, "would you tell me more stories of older Narnia? Please?"

Purpoise paused to consider it. "May I have your permission to come on the raft, young queen?" Lucy nodded excitedly, and reached out to grab Purpoise and pull him aboard. He splayed both legs out and was a meter away almost instantly. "You cannot lift me, young queen," and his tone was most amused.

"Then how will you get up?"

"I will ask for assistance," Purpoise said. He looked around, and shook his head slowly at his sister. "You are still too small, and the raft is too small. I must land precisely." He peered out towards sea. "Where is Hardshell?"

"There! There! I see him!" Robin cried, hoping on Lucy's shoulder. He indicated some distance away with his wing, and Purpoise bowed his head in courtesy to his queen and left. When he came back he was alone.

"Purpoise? Are you coming aboard?" Lucy asked uncertainly.

"In a moment, young queen. Please go to your brother," Purpoise directed calmly. Lucy did, then watched with wide eyes as Purpoise drew all his limbs inside his shell. Something was speeding towards them, under the water, beneath them; it dove - it was Hardshell, Lucy was sure it was - and then surfaced at a high speed _under_ Purpoise, knocking him into the air like bat knocks a baseball, arching him up and over. A moment later Purpoise thudded onto the raft, almost perfectly in the middle, and the raft shifted and shuddered, but settled a moment later. Purpoise slowly pushed his limbs out of his shell again and regarded his rulers with his deep, slow glance, amusement partially hidden in it. "Thank you for allowing me aboard," he said slowly.

Lucy, recovering herself, laughed and ran forward, throwing her arms around him. "Story time?" she pleaded, when she had caught her breath.

Purpoise drew his limbs partially in and settled into the crevice between two logs. "Yes," he agreed. "I will tell you the story of how King Dwarfsteel's reign began." Lucy settled beside him, Robin hopping off her shoulder to the logs and tilting his head to regard Purpoise with one bright eye. Behind them Lucy heard Peter sit as well. A small thud sounded on her left, and she looked over to see Squint rolling over a log. He went straight for Peter, stopping at his feet. Then he tucked all his limbs in, and peered at Purpoise from the hole in his shell as Purpoise patiently waited for him to be ready. Then Purpoise began:

"King Dwarfsteel once told me he was born with a great curiosity, and a love for adventure. He learned how to crawl like a turtle sooner than Sons of Adam usually do, though slower than a turtle would. He laughed as he said it. It was one of the few times I had heard him laugh, before his wife. For as a child, the king had a companion on every adventure he sought, and that great friend and watchful companion was his father, King Halen. It was his father who drew his son back from the dwarf forges when the young child longed to touch them, King Halen who taught his son to swim so that he would not drown as he continually sought the sea, and yet it was the king who gave him the freedom to explore, always with his father. It was the safest and wisest thing for the king to do, for soon his son would not go on any adventure without his father, and accompanied his father to every kingly duty. His mother was a timid, quiet queen, with a gentle love for his husband and son and a great love for her home and her rooms. It was to her that they would go to rest, King Dwarfsteel told me. But always, always, they would leave again, and so even as a boy King Dwarfsteel saw what it was to be a generous and kind king, for his father was such. And soon the boy demanded to learn to fight when his father was practicing, and to ride when his father exercised his own horse. And King Halen delighted to teach him, for these were good things for a future king to know, and a good thing for a trouble-seeking child to know as well. After every lesson King Halen would come to his son and say, 'May Aslan use it to keep you safe.' But the peace of Narnia did not last, and the prince found there was one place his father would not let him come, and that was war. And the king was right, King Dwarfsteel said with a grim smile, for children do not remain in wars. They grow up, and grow up in pain and fear. But my friend still had regret on his face, a deep regret that even his wife never lifted. For King Halen fought off Calormens in Archenland by the grace of Aslan, and bandits from the White Witch's hordes, but in King Dwarfsteel's sixteenth year, King Halen went to fight the Northern Giants."

"Giants?" said a quick voice behind Lucy, tensely questioning.

"Yes, High King. There are many giants on Narnia's border, or there were, before the winter. They were the Witch's allies, though separate from her, and delight to crumble or squish the things of Narnia, like a turtle delights in swimming."

"I don't like giants," Squint announced in a loud voice.

"Robin, have you heard if the giants are still there?" Lucy almost scooted backwards to Peter, to give or seek comfort; his voice was uneasy.

"Still there, still there, birds fly away at their footsteps!" Robin chirped.

"High King," Purpoise said, catching Peter's attention again. "There are many challenges before you. But only one right now. This is what Aslan has given you to do right now. Leave your borders to Him for now."

"All right," and Lucy could hear a bit of ruefulness in his voice. "That's good sense. It's just…"

"Just what, High King?"

"I was sick to my stomach fighting that wolf," Peter blurted. "And the battle was worse. I mean, I did it, but it was aweful. I'm not at all sure how to fight a giant."

"Nor does Squint know how to fight the Great Currents of the Seasons Change." Purpoise extended his neck, closer to Squint's head-hole. Squint, hearing his name, bopped his head out and nearly hit Purpoise's, who chuckled. "But he will learn it in time. In Aslan's time. And so will you. Be at peace, High King." Lucy heard nothing, so she guessed Peter had nodded. "King Halen went to fight them, and in Aslan's mysterious will, he fell. I heard, from King Dwarfsteel's mother, that the day his companion died is the day adventure became about revenge instead of curiosity. He learned all he could, as king, for he would not disappoint his father's legacy, but also as a soldier, and bent his will to the giants. When he turned eighteen, they fought. And they learned to fear him, small as he was to them, and in his face was something his own soldiers feared. When they came back from the war many refused to go with him again, and begged him to turn to the sea instead, for there it was easy to love him. But he did not forget, even looking at his loved sea, all that waited away from it, and all that he hated. He remembered his father's generosity, but never learned forgiveness." Purpoise sighed, thinking. Then his head lifted. "But he met his wife. I have told your sister how they met, High King, but I did not tell her the turtles, who had stayed around his ship out of gratitude, learned there to love the king. As he stood against the ship's rail and laughed, we heard something new in his tone. As he swam, we saw something reborn in him. In loving someone else he became someone worthy of being loved. Through their years his wife became his companion, as he had been his father's. For all the time they ruled they did all things together, save war. And because he could share his adventures, they became his joy once again. His longing for death ceased, his soldiers followed him again, and we saw much of him and his wife. I have wondered if, given more time, he could have learned to forgive. His wife was wise and laughing. She taught him much, in the fifteen years they were married."

"I'm glad they had each other so long," Lucy said softly. She wanted to ease Purpoise's sadness. "Did they have children?"

"Three, two sons and a daughter. Their parents brought them to the sea as soon as they could be taken out of the castle. I watched over them when they slept."

"And I buried their feet in sand," said a gentle voice from the water; Parable had still been listening.

"And the queen laughed, and the king kicked sand up, scattering it on your shell and then rolled you from the beach into the water," Purpoise said, laughter in his voice. "You were his mischief-maker."

"It is not an art I have lost quite yet, my brother," and Lucy grinned at her teasing tone.

But Purpoise was not paying attention. He was looking out, over the sea. "What is that? Robin, can you tell?"

Robin flew up to the top of the mast, wings fluttering in the sea breeze. "A castaway! A castaway!" Peter was on his feet, Lucy following, pulling ropes to swing the raft towards where Robin was peering.

"Robin, who is it? Human? Narnian? A sea creature?"

"It's a Mashwiggle! A Marshwiggle!"

Lucy looked at Peter. "What's a Marshwiggle doing all the way out here?" she wondered.

OOOOO

(1) Apparently, waves on the open ocean aren't much greater than those on shore, baring storms. Another fact I didn't know; they're mainly created by wind, so with a steady wind there's waves, but not enormous ones.  
(2) I did look up British slang, and as far as I could find they use "cool" as well, but if I'm wrong, please let me know!  
(3) Apparently sharks attacking turtles only happens occasionally, but it does happen.  
(4) This was an older practice, where ballast stones were put into empty ships to stabilize them.  
(5) Bioluminescent algae

A/N: I'm sorry I posted this so late; I went to see _Spider-man: Far From Home_, and got back later than I thought I would. My apologies! I am adding the Marshwiggle so that we can have nine characters in our group, and so the fellowship of the raft is assembling.


	12. Chapter 11 The Fellowship of the Raft

**Chapter Eleven: The Fellowship of the Raft**

Disclaimer… I dis [**dis**\- 1. a Latin **prefix** meaning "apart," "asunder," "away," "utterly," or having a privative, negative, or reversing force] claim owning Narnia.

I'd probably disclaim it from the rooftops, if necessary.

**Warning:** I don't know if this needs a warning, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. Marshwiggles are notorious for their bravery but also their pessimism, and this particular one turned out to be just a touch morbid.

OOOOO

"Purpoise, and you, Hardshell, go and see if he needs help," Peter ordered, shading his eyes. Lucy stood as well, trying to see. Peter, noticing, set her gently on top of Henry the Badger's box. The turtles swam - much faster than they walked, Lucy noticed (1) - and were soon at the raft. They floated, heads reaching up, and the marshwiggle bent so far over to hear them Lucy was sure he was going to fall in. The wind was blowing the opposite direction, and she couldn't hear what the three were saying, but soon the marshwiggle was nodding, slowly and dolefully, and paddling his raft towards where his sovereigns sailed.

"Good afternoon, your Majesties," he said gloomily when he was within hearing distance. "I suppose you're lost. Going to sea is a bad business for any land creature. No stars to see by. You'll never reach Galma, I shouldn't think." Lucy, still shorter than him even though she was on a box, choked down giggles. She'd forgotten how funny marshwiggles were, the way they spoke so sadly of expecting the worst but seemed so happy when it happened.

"We're not lost, we have the turtles to guide us. But thank you for your concern!" she added, remembering her manners. "Who are you?"

"And what are you doing out at sea, good marshwiggle?" added Peter.

"I am Dourfog (2)," he said, bowing, tall reed hat in one hand and wooden paddle in the other. "We heard of your Majesties' plan. It's a good thought, your Majesties, it might be, that is, if it didn't go wrong. But it will, I should think. No one's been to Galma in years and years. They're sure to have gone bad by now. Probably run by pirates. And it wouldn't be good if you got there and were impaled - or made to walk into the sea - or hung. Or taken by slavers, more than likely. No, that would be bad for Narnia."

"So you decided to go first?" Peter asked. There was a twitch to his mouth that Lucy thought meant he was trying not to smile. "I thank you for your loyalty, Dourfog. But what would you have done if you met pirates?"

"I'd have sent the raft back to Narnia," Dourfog explained. "Stained by blood, I should think, if I got captured. It'd be warning enough. More than likely to happen. The Marshwiggles would warn you. Or if they couldn't catch you in time (bound to happen), they'd sail after you."

"A rescue fleet of marshwiggles," Peter said, still fighting that smile. "That obviously didn't happen. What _did_ happen at Galma?"

"I didn't get there yet," Dourfog said gloomily - though Lucy thought he looked a little happy, too. "I lost my sail. I should have brought a spare. I knew something would go wrong. I should have guessed the wind would tear it up. But I wasn't thinking about sails, I was thinking about pirates, and swords, and rope, and sinking ships. Now I'm too late." And he looked truly miserable at that.

"Then come join us," Lucy said impulsively, holding out her hand to him. "There's room on our raft, and it's still got a sail."

"Come join! Come join! Plenty of room for all!" Robin chirruped, and Squint squeaked his agreement as well.

"Lu," Peter started, but Dourfog started talking before he did and didn't hear him.

"I'll come along, your Majesty, thank you. Someone will need to take the news back to Narnia, if you're killed. Little thing like you, it wouldn't take much. Marshwiggles are harder to kill. But I'll get seasick, I should think. I've heard of it. Dreadful disease. We'll all get it. Except the turtles. But we must make the best of it. They'll find us all on the raft, too late to do anything, laying quite still-"

"Thank you, Dourfog," Peter said. "Are you sure you would rather come with us than go back?"

"We must make the best of the trip, if we can. The more Narnians the better. It'll make a better defense, your Majesty. Though nine's not much. Especially since one's a baby. But we'll do what we can. We'll look to your Majesty to lead."

"Thank you," said Peter, and reached out to help him aboard. Whatever doubts he'd had he kept to himself. But Lucy saw Squint sneaking closer to him, and she heard him whisper to Peter while Dourfog was moving his bag and tying his raft to the back of theirs.

"King Peter?"

"Yes?" said Peter in an undertone that Lucy still heard, squatting down next to the turtle.

"Are we going to die, like the tall Fog says?"

"I hope not, Squint."

"You'll save us, right? Queen Lucy said you're good at saving people."

"Aslan is the one that saves us. But I'll certainly do my best. Trust Aslan," Peter said, setting his hand gently on Squint's head, and Squint nodded, his head bobbing up and down under Peter's hand, and then moving with him when Peter stood again, and Lucy smiled again. She was pretty sure Squint had a case of hero-worship for Peter as well as Hardshell now.

It was adorable. And Peter kind of deserved it, she thought happily, jumping off the box and accidentally rocking the raft. A hand on either arm steadied her, from Peter and Dourfog both. She thanked them with a smile and asked, "What about supper?"

Dourfog brought his own food, it turned out, and he had serious doubts about human food. Parable and Hardshell (the second at Squint's eager request) took the baby turtle to find their own in the ocean. Purpoise was not hungry (3), and Henry the Badger was sleeping. Robin had brought berries (4) in the nest that held his box, and Lucy went over to it, spilling some of them on the raft and then sitting beside them. Robin pecked them up one by one, and Lucy sat and spoke with him while eating her own meal. Peter ate his standing, and Dourfog ate his in silence. Lucy joined him eventually, when the sun began to set. The sunset left her breathless; the horizon seemed closer at sea. They finished eating and packed away their things, and Dourfog curled up soon after; Lucy guessed he'd worked hard, paddling to try to reach Galma before them. Robin, too, settled in his nest and tucked his head under his wing, though he informed Lucy it was very odd to be sleeping in a nest with no eggs or nestlings in it (5). But he added that it was a very fine nest before sighing and settling his head.

Lucy wasn't sleepy yet, so she walked over to Peter. She thought something might be bothering him. He wasn't usually so quiet over dinners.

"Are you missing Susan and Edmund?" she asked him, and he started, then turned to face her.

"Not right now," he said, smiling. "I'm sure I will when we reach Galma. They're the ones who are going to be good at this sort of thing."

"You're good at it too," Lucy reminded him. "Remember how you commanded an army? Aslan made you a good king, Peter. You'll be good at this," she added when his smile faded.

"Something else is troubling you, High King," said a calm, slow voice from below them, and Purpoise's head popped out of the water. Peter sighed and sat, Lucy following his example.

"It's the things Dourfog said. I can't get them out of my head. Or stop picturing them - us with ropes around our necks, or Robin sliced up - this wasn't supposed to be a dangerous mission, Purpoise. It's supposed to be a friendly one. But Dourfog keeps bringing up everything that could go wrong, and I can't help but wonder if I've made a mistake."

"But you told Squint earlier to trust in Aslan," Lucy protested, and Peter squared his shoulders.

"I'm trying, Lu, but it's not that easy. There's three kids on the trip, and Robin almost counts as a fourth."

"Turtles have a saying," Purpoise remarked. "It was born a long time ago, when the turtles were seeking new nesting grounds, for theirs were frozen, and there were none found. A little hatchling said they had to leave, so if they just started swimming, Aslan would lead. And he did what he had said should be done, and his family followed him, and the rest fell in after them. Three days they swam, and three days wondered where they were going. But they found they were going around Narnia, and came ashore in its neighbor, Archenland, and found their new nesting grounds. And it was a little child that led them." He rested his head on the closest log. "It was little children who led the marshwiggle aboard, High King. He is here for a purpose. If little children can lead as Aslan leads them, so can you. Leave what will go wrong to him."

"Something's going to go wrong," Peter agreed. "But it is better left to Aslan. It was Him that saved the battle." He propped his chin on his hands, and Lucy yawned, suddenly feeling cold. "Why don't you go lay down, Lu. I'll keep watch till Henry the Badger wakes up." Lucy reached over and hugged him, then went to her bag and got out the cloak. Covered by one brother's gift, watched over by the other, she fell fast asleep, and didn't wake when Peter too laid down, or when the turtles returned and rested on the raft as well, or when Henry the Badger climbed slowly and seriously on top of his box to keep watch, one paw on the rope, and his head filled with dreams of all the adventures he would have. He was so busy watching for enemies that he missed the fellowship's true enemy, a building wind, clouds blocking the stars, and distant, ominous rolls of thunder that signaled the coming of a storm.

OOOOO

(1) According to Google, green turtles can swim at speeds reaching up to 56 km/h (35 mph), though turtles in general only reach about 35 km/h (22 mph)  
(2) The name was thought of by Iberstienmm, and I gleefully adopted it.  
(3) Apparently green turtles start as omnivores, eating worms and small insects and crustaceans, and grow into being herbivores. But I couldn't find how _often_ they eat, so I am guessing Purpoise had a small snack when he was swimming earlier.  
(4) According to Google, "Winter robins eat berries, other fruits, and seeds they find on shrubs, trees, and vines. If robins happen to overwinter near you, you can offer them frozen or fresh fruit. They'll go for apple slices, raisins, blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, and cherries."  
(5) Apparently they only sleep in nests if there's young. Otherwise they sleep in shrubs and bushes. But I'd already given him a nest, so I decided he'd still use it. Sorry. :(

Response to Guess who - I would assume you're Anonymousme, and yes, that would be a very long name to type on a flip phone. You are welcome to abbreviate it!


	13. Chapter 12 Shipwrecked

**Chapter Something or Other: Shipwrecked**

Disclaimer: I hereby announce that Narnia is mine! Anyone believe me? No? Well, then, let's get on with the story!  
P.S. For people who believe in faerie tales, you aren't exactly gullible. I approve.

Lucy woke to rain on her cheek. She brushed it off with a murmur; had she left the window open again? She'd get it in the morning.

A crack of thunder made her sit bolt upright. She'd get it now. She reached out for it - wait, it would be too far - her entire hand was getting wet? She blinked, shaking her head, feeling wind pushing all round her. Her cloak fell off her shoulders.

She was on the raft. She was on the raft, and it was dark - and a bolt of lightning lit the sky. She saw the sail, straining, the wind snapping the ropes. The second raft was already gone, a full wave away. She stood up, crying "Peter!" as she staggered towards the sail, the raft tumbling on the waves beneath her. Up, up, she almost fell to her knees when it crested and started falling down the other side, hands floundering. One step forward - she tripped over something hard, Purpoise, and fell, rolling towards the edge! She was over the side before she could stop.

Water. Swim, swim, _up_. The sea was cold, cold, and wet and wild in the storm. "Peter!" she cried out again as she surfaced, spluttering out water. She closed her mouth as she went under again, struggling to get back up. Something _jerked_ around her waist, and she was moving forward. Up, too, dragged through the water; something hard bumped her from the side, and she threw an arm over it just as they broke the surface. She blinked the water from her eyes, rubbing them; lightning lit the world. Peter, pulling the rope around her waist. Hardshell was beside her, and the raft - the raft was nearly capsizing.

"Cut the sail!" Peter roared through the noise, yelling at Henry, at Robin, but it was Dourfog who rushed forward, hand at his waist, and the world went darker again. The raft was in reach; she grabbed one of the logs, and instantly hands were on her arms, pulling her up. Peter lifted her as easily as she lifted Robin; when he stood and turned lightning made the world white again, and she saw metal in Dourfog's hand, shining on the ropes to the sail. The light left just as the rope snapped.

"In the middle! Get to the middle!" Peter's roaring was just above her now, and they were going down, he was kneeling, and one of his hands left her. It was back a moment later, shoving wet feathers into her lap, and she grabbed Robin gently, trying for a firm hold that wouldn't hurt him. "In the _middle_!" Peter yelled again, and a box-Henry must be inside-hit her leg. "Can you hold on, Lu?"

"Yes!" She grabbed the box in one arm, set Robin in her lap, and held on to the logs with the other. Peter was gone the next moment.

Up, up, the rift tilting, and she dug her fingers in and clung. The bundle in her lap moved, and she let go of the raft, desperate to catch Robin, but he was gone. No, she prayed, Aslan, no! A moment later, she breathed; he'd landed on her shoulder, clawed feet curling into her clothes and holding, scraping her shoulder (1). He ducked into her neck, and she jammed her hand back between the logs.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!" The doleful voice cried loudly, alarm filling the cry. "Rocks! Land ahead! But the rocks first!"

Lightning; she could see Peter turning, and looked where he looked, where Dourfog pointed. They were the only ones on the raft; the turtles were gone - no, one of the shells glinted in the sea.

Darkness. Whatever Peter saw, he was moving; she saw him in the next flash, hand on Dourfog's wrist, pulling him forward, towards the group.

"Henry, can you swim?" came his panting voice as they got close.

"Yes, but I don't like to (2)," and Lucy hugged his box a bit closer. He sounded so frightened.

"Right. I'll take you, Henry, stay in your box," and his hand patted hers before taking the box. "Dourfog, you take Robin—do Marshwiggles swim?"

"Yes, your Majesty. I should have known we'd have to swim. But I thought the sea would at least let us get killed by Galmans, not tried to kill us on it's-"

"Good," Peter cut in sharply. "Robin, keep clinging to his shoulder. Everyone get to a turtle. They can make sure we get to shore. Dourfog, you're the biggest, see if you can get to Hardshell. Lu, you take Parable, and Squint if you can. I'll go with Purpoise. And here, cut the rope around your waist—" He was handing her the knife, arm outstretched, when they hit the first of the rocks, the edge of the raft slamming down into them. She fell forward - Peter desperately moved away the knife - and the logs beneath them groaned. Then they washed away, going up, up, and up - "Get it off, Lu, get it off!" - and then down, down, once more. Peter was reaching for her rope, his own already cut, she noticed with relief - when they hit the rocks again, and the raft broke apart. She was still tied to one of them.

Back, back into the cold, wet water. Weightless, for just a moment, till the rope around her jerked again, the log battered on the surface, and she was pulled against the rock.

That _hurt_. Pain shooting down from her shoulder, arm filled with spikes. She gasped, and choked on water. Up, up, where was up? She couldn't breathe. The rope jerked again, and she choked more, reaching for the knot. There, it was undone, one tug and it stopped jerking. But everything hurt, she had to get _out_, she had to, she had to find Peter, where was Peter?

Suddenly she was above the water. Something hard was under her, hard and smooth, rounded. She almost fell off, and grabbed it with one hand; the other hurt too much. A turtle shell. She was on a turtle's shell. She leaned forward, laying down, coughing up water and trying to keep her balance.

Everything still hurt. But there was _air_.

She closed her eyes. Air. The turtle was moving, but she didn't care. Air in, water out; air in, water out; air in, air out. She kept breathing, eyes closed, laying still, feeling cold rain on her back and sea on both legs, one on either side of the turtle. She was probably crying.

A wave washed over them, and water filled her mouth again. Out, out, _out_, this tasted awful and she hated breathing it. It was awful.

But - she heard herself (3). Things had been awful before. In that winter; and that awful night, with the Witch and Aslan. He made it better then. She could make it better now, a little. If she sat up, above the waves. She opened her eyes and carefully moved, slowly, putting her arms in front of her to help her balance. She grimaced as it ached, pain once more running through the bone; it would hurt for a while. But if Aslan sent them to Galma she wasn't going to arrive at their island crying and choking if she had a choice.

The lightning was still flashing; thunder following. The storm was right overhead. By the light she could see they were past the rocks; and the beach was ahead. Already the turtle was slowing, the waves rushing him on to the shore, but leaving him to struggle when they rolled out. Lucy, peering down, waited for the next light; the beach wasn't deep, they were closer than she'd thought. She slid off the turtle and into the waist-deep water, keeping a hand on the shell. A long head turned back in alarm; it was Purpoise. "I'm walking to the beach," she shouted as the thunder boomed. A wave slapped her back, and she nearly fell, but clung to Purpoise. He might have argued with her - and she admitted now that maybe this wasn't the safest way to go - but apparently decided speed was better than getting her back up on his back, and moved them both forward, staying as close to her as was possible. The hand slung over his shell helped her stay upright, and she found she could pull him a little, as long as they were in water, when the waves rolled out. One step, she told herself, one step forward. Step over the drag. The water was below her waist now by a hand. Stagger forward with the next wave; find my feet, and then take one step. The water was a little above her knees. Another wave; Purpoise was much shorter than she was now. He was walking, edging forward at a turtle's slow pace. Fight the water going back out; it was easier now. Forward, forward, watch the water around her feet - and hands snatched her up.

"Lucy!" Peter had picked her completely up, not bothered by the water spilling over his boots. "Oh, Lucy, thank Aslan - Lu? Are you hurt?"

"My arm. It hurt when you hugged me; I'm sorry Peter." She squeezed his hand, since she couldn't hug him, trying to let him know how happy she was that he was ok.

"Hardshell and Squint are down the beach. Let's get out of the water." He set her down, careful of her arm, but left his hand on her shoulder. He led the way, and she followed. The other turtles weren't far, and he gently pressured her into sitting next to them, swinging his cloak around her before standing. "I'll look at your arm in a moment, Lu, I promise. But-"

"Go find the others." And she smiled at him, and he smiled back a moment - lit again by the sky's brilliance - before turning back to the beach. She waited till she could see - and see his attention was back on the water - before she stood, bundling up his tall cloak around her, and setting out for the water as well, opposite of where he went. She heard something from the turtles, but they couldn't keep up, and she _had_ to know if Dourfog, Robin, Parable, and Henry were all right. Where had Henry gone, if he wasn't with Peter?

She reached the shore; waited for another lightning branch. Nothing. She walked a little further, and waited again. Please, Aslan, she thought. Please, I know Your own go to Your country sometimes, but please don't bring them home tonight. Light again, and nothing. She looked further out, straining as the light faded and the thunder followed.

I hope Peter doesn't notice I'm gone. I don't think he'll be happy.

Light. And something, something in the distance; a small dark square. She splashed forward, towards it, forgetting about Peter's cloak. It grew too dark; she waited, praying for light, and lightning came again, and again she ran forward, the cloak heavy on her shoulders but floating around her feet. There, there, so close! Something dark beside it. Thunder, but she was close enough to still see, and she grabbed one side of the box, reaching to the other. Something wet and furry, paws striking out in the water; she grabbed it and put it in the box, and started back for shore.

Lightning; thunder. Back to the sound of rain on the sea. A pause, and another of the storm's loud voicing. When it faded, she heard a small, "Your Majesty?"

"Yes, Henry?" She pulled the box under her arm, closer to her ear.

"I'm glad my box floats."

"Me too, Henry," and she smiled, thanking Aslan too.

"But your Majesty?"

"Yes, Henry?"

"A floating box doesn't _help_ if it doesn't _go_ where it's supposed to."

And Lucy laughed; despite her arm hurting, despite how thoroughly wet and cold she was, she was so glad badgers still had common sense.

Perhaps her laughing put a little heart into Henry the Badger, because when he spoke next it wasn't quite so quietly. "Your Majesty, are all adventures like this?"

She thought back, to the long, tiring walk up the hill of the Stone Table, the night in the beavers' hiding place, the weariness that made sitting down so _good_. "Mine have been," she admitted. Yes, this adventure was just like the rest.

"Then adventures aren't as much fun as I thought. Your Majesty," was hastily added, and she smiled to think about just how much Henry's mother might have instructed him about what to say and do.

"There's time they're not fun, but I'm always glad I did them," she told him honestly. "Maybe you'll be glad tomorrow, when you're dry and you've slept. I'm usually happier then." They were on shore by then, and she hoisted Peter's cloak over one shoulder - it still _hurt_ to move that arm, but she had to, with Henry's box in the other - and started trudging back to where the others had been.

A tall, tall figure was standing over the group, looking up and down the beach, and she started running faster. Peter must have noticed she was missing.

Wait, that was _too_ tall - and thin - and with that funny hat - it was Dourfog! And he'd kept his hat somehow. _And_ her bag, and Peter's; he'd brought all their things! Lucy ran up to him, set down Henry in the box, and threw her arms around his legs, nearly bowling him over. Then she turned, counting turtles - one little, Purpoise, and two more - all of them. She looked up, up, and craned her neck; and there was a wet, dark blob on Dourfog's shoulder.

"Where's Peter?" she called. Dourfog still looked too shocked to answer - maybe he wasn't used to people he met the day before hugging him, but Lucy thought it should become normal and wasn't bothered - so it was Hardshell, in a dry, raised voice who said, "Shore," nodding to the side.

Lucy looked, and there was Peter, scanning up and down the shoreline, not the water. "Peter!" she called as loudly as she could. "Peter! _PETER!_" He turned.

He came back, and Lucy leaned down and scooped up Henry's box and held it up to show him - then winced as her arm reminded her _not_ to do that. "Look what Aslan led me to!" she said happily, and whatever Peter had been about to say never reached his lips. He took the box from her, checked inside, running a hand over the poor badger, and then putting his arm around his sister, box still in hand.

"Did you find anything?" he called to Dourfog.

"No caves, your Majesty, but there's some wood nearby, and I stacked it in a shelter!"

"Room for all of us?" Dourfog nodded, hat brim raining waterdrops, and Peter let go of Lucy to lift their bags. "Go on then," and he pushed away Lucy's hands as she tried to grab something, and touched her shoulder, gently.

The makeshift shelter was near, and Lucy recognized several of the pillars as logs from their raft, tilted at an angle to brace against the sand without falling over. Over the top was set another raft - Dourfog's, she realised - and while it wasn't quite waterproof, it was close. They huddled underneath it, three turtles still outside, drawing themselves into their shells, though Squint stayed near Peter.

"What happened to your shoulder?" Peter's hand on her arm were gentle, testing it for breaks, but she still winced.

"I hit a rock," she said quietly, biting her lip to keep other noises inside.

"It's not broken or bleeding, but I think you might have bruised it to the bone (4)," Peter said quietly. "Don't sleep on it, and you'll be cold enough without trying to put anything cold on it." He took his cloak off her shoulders, rung it out outside the shelter, and wrapped it around her again. "Try to go to sleep; we'll find people and help in the morning," he said. He turned to Henry's box and, gently scooping out the badger, tilted it to let all the water drain, then set it back upright and put Henry in it. Robin's nest was gone - as was Lucy's cloak - so the rest made themselves as comfortable as possible and tried to take Peter's advice.

Lucy, eyes closed, was sinking into sleep when she heard Dourfog mutter, "I didn't think your Majesties would like Galma, but I didn't like to say it out loud. Our first night here, on the sand, in the rain, and wet through. We'll catch our deaths, I should think…"

OOOOO

A/N: I'm sorry I haven't posted in about a week. Prophecy of the Thrones is still arguing with me, and, well, it's taking a lot more time than usual. So I'm working on this as it's got a better outline in my head. Hopefully it's better behaved.

(1) Apparently Robins have very good grips, described by one article as "clamping in place" in a way that keeps them on the branch even when they're sleeping. Since they don't always sleep in their nests…  
(2) According to Ibernsteinnm's Google search, badgers can swim but prefer not to. (I can never say that last phrase without thinking of the highly depressing story of Bartleby, the Scrivner.)  
(3) I was a little conflicted with her reactions; on the one hand, she's eight years old, in pain, and she nearly died; on the other, she's Lucy the Valiant. So I gave her time to cry and then gave her courage, and I hope that was believable as a reaction, especially for her.  
(4) In college I jumped off a twelve-foot-high tower one time, and I was _supposed _to hit the enormous, colorful, five-foot-high air cushion on the lake, but somehow I missed it and ended up hitting the concrete block it was tied to underwater, and I bruised my shoulder to the bone. I went into shock - while underwater - and found out that when I go in shock I get a single idea in my head and just keep repeating it over and over. At that point it was "My roommate needs to take me back to campus," and so I got out of the lake and went to go find her. But I couldn't use the arm for the rest of the day, and it still ached for several days.


	14. Chapter 13 Galma's Initial Welcome

**Chapter with the one and the three following it: Galma's Initial Welcome (not quite what Dourfog predicted)**

Disclaimer: I invented a means for each individual person to be able to fly, and earned enough to buy the rights to Narnia. You may believe this statement when you get your own personalised wings, for free, that will never break down or cause problems.

The sun woke Lucy early the next morning, and she didn't quite like it. Her shoulder still ached deep under the skin, the rough sand grated on her face, arm, and legs, and she was very, very cold (1). She tried to open her eyes and shut them again; they had sand in them too. Rubbing them with sand-covered hands wouldn't do any good, so she shook out the bottom of her tunic and carefully wiped her eyes. Peter had stirred when she moved - he was right beside her, and he sat up, blinking as well. She giggled - Peter covered in sand would _not _have made Susan happy - but she was quick to stand up and gently wipe his eyes with her already clean tunic edge.

"Thanks, Lu," he said, still blinking. He looked around, counting the Narnians around him in quick succession. "Did we really all make it?"

"All of us," Lucy chimed, sitting back next to her brother, careful not to touch him with her hurting shoulder. Peter looked over at her.

"You look a sight. Here, let me dust you off." But she scooted back as he reached over, and pointed to his sand covered hand. "That would make it worse. We'll leave it. Come on, let's take stock," and he pushed himself to his feet.

Robin untucked his head and looked out towards the sun, and burst into birdsong.

"A fine way to wake up in the morning," came the sleepy grumble. "The day will be full of trouble enough without starting it early, I should think." Robin, however, wasn't listening, and he hopped - wings too full of sand to fly - outside the shelter and onto one of the turtle's backs, standing in full view of the sunrise and the sea. The turtles didn't stir - they must be tired from hauling us, Lucy thought. Dourfog was still grumbling in a low, not-morning person mutter, and Henry hadn't moved. Of course, she thought, badgers are nocturnal. She went over to their bags, checking to see what was left. Dourfog, more generous than he sounded, had saved her and Peter's bags, but not his own. And the bag of food was lost as well, so they just a few wrinkled, sandy changes of clothing. She looked down; she was still wearing her travel clothes, and there didn't seem to be much sense in changing them.

"No food?" said Peter's voice behind her.

"No, I think that one got lost," she called over her shoulder.

"Ah. Starvation. That's a hard way to die, I've heard." Dourfog stretched and started to stand, and promptly hit his hat on the raft. "Just what I needed, a morning knock on the head. It's what I deserve, for leaving Narnia behind, I should think."

"We're grateful you left," Lucy said, going over and reaching up on her tiptoes to straighten the bent Marshwiggle's hat. "You saw the rocks in time to warn us last night, and saved our bags, and saved Robin. We're very happy you came."

He blushed, the strange green blush of the Marshwiggle filling his cheeks, and he muttered that it was nothing, just the duty of a Narnian, and if he died for it - as he should think he would - he'd be going to Aslan's country, and it wasn't much loss, he supposed. But Lucy thought he looked happier.

"Will you go help Robin? I think he could use some help getting all the sand out of his feathers," and she gave the Marshwiggle a gentle tug towards the outside of the shelter, where he could stand straight (2). He went willingly, and Lucy turned to find Peter. He was looking around, and she joined him, now that they could see by more than lightning flashes. They walked a bit, Robin's song clear in the background, to get a feel for their surroundings.

They were in an inlet, carved into the shore, with a very small, short beach of sand. Beyond it were a few trees, and then a tall, tall cliff, uneven and made of rocks, circling the cove on every side except for the one by the water.

"There doesn't look to be much to eat," Lucy said, trying to be sensible and helpful.

"No, and I'm not seeing a clear path, either, though that could appear once we get closer," Peter agreed. "But I have no idea how we'd get the turtles up the cliff if we do find one. We might have to ask them to wait, though I've an idea we'll be gone—hullo, what's this?"

Emerging from the trees was a small group of humans - of course they were humans, Lucy thought with a small shock, we're not in Narnia anymore - headed in their direction. Two men, older than Peter but young, and a woman about the same age. Peter loosened his sword, but let his hand fall away from it.

"Narnians, behind me," he said softly, quickly, and they obeyed instantly; for it was Peter the High King who spoke. Out of the corner of her eye Lucy caught the green of Hardshell nudging Henry's box, waking him; Peter waited till all of them were behind and ready. "Shall we go greet our welcomers?"

Lucy took his hand; the two sovereigns were sent together, after all. But she was ready to let it go if they needed to run or fight. Together, the king and queen in front, they made their way across the beach.

They had kind faces, Lucy decided, and she smiled at them. All three smiled back - though the man in the front more easily than the other two.

"Welcome to our shores," he called some distance away. "What is your business here?" the second added, his tone sharp.

Lucy thought instantly of their lessons in formal language. Wouldn't now the perfect time to try to use it? "Greetings to thee, and our thanks for thy welcome! We come - to thy shores - seeking-" she broke off, not sure how to phrase "Narnian exiles" in formal tongue.

"Wanderers from the land of Narnia, settled here perhaps a hundred winters ago," said Peter's voice beside her, and she relaxed again, and smiled up at him.

Covered in sand, younger than the entire group coming towards them on the shore, hair messy, Peter _still_ looked regal. It was the way he stood, as a commander and yet a soldier confident in his orders; common sense and authority personified. He would look like a king anywhere.

Even when his mouth was twitching a little from amusement. Probably from the formal language, Lucy guessed. It _was_ the first time they'd actually tried to use it. But he was good at it. But it had an odd effect. The group across from them had stopped, and the two in back looked at each other.

"Are you from Archenland?" said the girl cautiously.

"Or are you pirates?" accused the second man.

"Neither," said Peter, and bowed. "We harbor no ill intent towards you, I give my word; and we neighbor friendly Archenland, but are not off it. We were shipwrecked on your shores last night, during the story."

"That was my fault," said a voice near Lucy's feet, and Henry the Badger walked forward beneath her and turned to face Peter. "I failed on my watch last night, High King. I should have warned you of the storm."

Lucy looked up from the child-sized badger to the people on the sand behind him, and found them frozen, staring at Henry in shock. Of course, she thought, animals probably don't talk here, like back in that other place.

"He _spoke_," whispered the man in front, lifting his face to look at the humans and the Marshwiggle behind them. "The badger spoke!"

"Of course he did, of course he did. We're not from Archenland but Narnia, Narnia, Narnia!" sang Robin, and the group jumped.

"And the Robin," breathed the first man.

"Just like the stories," the girl said in a stunned voice.

"This is Henry," said Peter politely. "Henry, you're forgiven, but later we will discuss keeping watch; or perhaps training. I should not have left you to watch alone when you were so young, and part of the fault is mine. But we should greet these strangers first. What are you names?" he asked, turning back to the three.

The first man stepped forward. "I suppose you are a bit young for pirates," he said, smiling. "And - you have with you creatures from our legends, tales we brought with us when we settled here of animals who spoke as men do, and reason." He paused. "Aslan led you straight to the Exiled, as some of us still call ourselves," he said softly. "But how are there humans in Narnia now? All Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve, to use the ancient terms, fled or died when Jadis won the war."

"This is Peter, High King of Narnia, appointed by Aslan, and one of his younger sisters, Queen Lucy, also made Queen by Aslan." Dourfog spoke up from behind them, a bit indignantly. "They overcame the White Witch and ended her reign, with the help of Aslan. Thought these good times shouldn't last long, I should think. Too unpredictable, too much to learn-"

"Thank you, Dourfog," said Peter. "And this is our companion, Dourfog the Marshwiggle, and our friend Robin, and our guides, Parable, Hardshell, the young Squint, and Purpoise."

"Purpoise!" the girl cried, and would have rushed forward, but her companion caught her by the arm. "You've returned!" she said, shaking off her friend's hand.

"I have, young Perelandra. Though you and your brother Peridan (3) have grown much taller since last I saw you," said Purpoise's rumbling, slow voice.

"_You_ haven't grown much larger," she said. She started forward again, avoiding her companion's grab this time. "I, as Purpoise have said, am Perelandra. This is my older brother, Peridan, and our suspicious companion Hareth, who has fought far too many pirates to welcome people to our shores. But this time you're _Narnians._ You're real," she said, her eyes flashing with wonder to Henry, Robin, and the four turtules. "Purpoise used to be the only proof we had that our parents' stories weren't made up, tales to satisfy us at bedtimes."

"But now you're here. You're real. We heard the Robin singing and came to hear the song - it is not native to our shores - these shores. But we never dreamed we'd find Narnians." Peridan's eyes were also watching them with wonder. Lucy laughed; she couldn't help it. In Narnia it was the Sons of Adam and the Daughters of Eve who were the curiosities; now, coming to find their subjections, the humans found themselves overlooked at the wonder of animals with speech. Peridan smiled at the sound, as most people did. Even Hareth's mouth twitched. "But the tall Narnian called you king?" Peridan asked, looking once again at Peter. "And queen?" He looked down to Lucy's face. "You are young to bear such titles."

"They were given by Aslan, who chose us at this age to come from our land and free Narnia."

"Us?" said Hareth sharply. "How many of there are you? How large was your army, that you could overthrow Jadis?"

"I myself, my sister Susan, my brother Edmund, and Lucy came, and by the grace of Aslan and at his own coming, the land was freed from winter, and the witch defeated. She fell to Aslan's paws," Peter responded quietly, but with firmness.

"And he's a hero!" piped a high voice. "In the storm he made sure all of us were safe! He and Hardshell saved us."

Hareth looked around, searching for the voice, and frowned when he saw the tiny turtle speaking. "I guess pirates would know _not_ to sail in a storm," he said at length. "But your kingship bears more discussion. Come, we'll let the seven lords hear your case."

"That is fair, and that is why we came. We brought these our friends as witness." Peter paused. "How do you get to the top of the cliff?"

"We've a boat, and you'd be welcome in it," Peridan said, and Lucy couldn't help being drawn more to him than Hareth. He reminded her of the Beavers, a little, with his welcome and delight in seeing them, all of them. Hareth was more like the Narnians who had fought for too long and lost too much in the Witch's winter, and she wasn't sure how to help him. Susan usually got their guard down enough for Lucy to make them laugh, and Susan wasn't here. Lucy didn't know how Susan did it.

"Come," said a voice near her, and Perelandra's hand touched her shoulder. "Going around to the port is faster than going up, though we must go back empty-handed."

"I wouldn't call bringing nine Narnians empty-handed, my sister," said Peridan merrily, turning towards a far part of the beach. "Our catch will be remembered for as long as the Exiles exist."

"Which won't be long, I should think," said Dourfog. His long strides took him to the head of the group, and he fell back again. "With pirates, and storms, and all manner of things, it's a miracle you're here at all."

"Aslan's doing! Aslan's doing!" chirruped Robin from his shoulder.

Lucy tugged on Peter's hand. "Wait for the turtles!" she pled, looking up at him, and found his steps were already slowing. "The turtles can't keep up when we walk this fast," she said apologetically to the three Exiles.

"Of course, I remember that!" exclaimed Perelandra. "Sorry, Purpoise. It's been a long while."

"But patience is good in any season," he responded.

"Especially if you bring turtles along," Parable added, a laugh running through her melodic voice. "But we will had to the water and meet you at the boat. Come along, Squint! It's time you had a swimming lesson anyway."

Lucy watched the turtles slowly turn, four limbs digging into the sand and pulling themselves forward, and smiled to see Squint trying to turn it into a race. She turned back to the other three, Peridan watching Robin with curious eyes, Perelandra smiling at the turtles - and Hareth still watching with suspicious eyes. He turned towards the boat as she caught him watching, and strode quickly over to it, pushing the long, narrow shape off the beach and into the water. The three Exiles quickly took their seats, Perelandra at the front with an small oar and the two men on the bench with larger ones. Hareth continued to watch the Narnians - crowded into the small boat and pushed up against it's edges - with eyes that dared them to try anything. Peridan seemed ready to ask a million questions, and Perelandra kept smiling at them, and at the turtles that soon met them and swam around them in circles. She wondered if these three were a good representation of the Narnian exiles.

And if it was, how many of them might want to come home.

OOOOO

(1) Most of you probably know this, but for those who might not, sand reflects heat better than most materials, but retains very little of it, so it's often very hot during the day and very cold during the night.  
(2) I remember Marshwiggles being very tall; the logs were eight feet long, but I was thinking with the hat, and the logs braced at an angle in the sand, which would cut off about a foot, it would make sense that he couldn't stand straight. For those wondering about the height measurements...if anyone did.  
(3) Peridan is from _The Horse and His Boy_, where it tells of Lord Peridan in the council but also on a bay horse carrying the great banner of Narnia-a red lion on a green ground; I looked for names there on a suggestion from Scribe of Heroes, so thanks! And Perelandra, of course, is another Lewisian word.


	15. Chapter 14 The Seven Lords

**Chapter XIV (I think; no, I'm pretty sure): the Seven Lords**

A/N: I'm posting this because I didn't really like the last chapter - I'm not sure if that's because I was getting continual interruptions while writing it (the kinds of interruptions that last at least half an hour and involve leaving the room or the house for various tasks), or because I was fighting off heat exhaustion, or because it just wasn't good. Here's hail! to the next chapter of the road, and hoping for better.

Disclaimer: I really don't see Lewis writing this particular story (I'd have loved to read a version of restoring humans to Narnia that he did, since they _are_ in _The Horse and His Boy_, but he did give us seven incredible novels of Narnia in addition to at least ten other books I've loved, so I shouldn't be complaining), and if you check on the cover of your Narnian book, you'll see it says "Lewis" as the author. Therefore you may conclude we are two separate people.  
...I think that holds the record for my longest disclaimer. I didn't know I was setting that as a record. Cool?

OOOOO

Henry the Badger interrupted Lucy's thoughts.

"Queen Lucy?" came the whisper from her lap, and she looked down at the black-and-white child sitting upright on her lap.

"Yes, Henry?" she whispered back.

"Is this another adventure?"

"Being in a boat like this?"

"No, going to meet these people."

Lucy looked up; all three exiles were now concentrating entirely on rowing, Perelandra using her oar to push them away from rocks or strong strokes to turn the boat. Lucy really wanted to learn that. "Yes, I think it will be," she said thoughtfully. "I don't think they're used to Narnians anymore. And people are wonderful adventures."

Henry was quiet for a moment. "Queen Lucy?"

"Yes?" she said curiously.

"I don't think adventures are any more fun now that I've slept and I'm dry." He paused. "Maybe they'll be fun after we've had breakfast?" And his tone turned to such hope at the end that Lucy laughed again.

"Maybe," she agreed, putting her arms around him, just beneath his large striped head, to give him a gentle hug. His paws reached around one of her arms to hug back. "We'll ask about breakfast after the hellos, ok?"

"What are you whispering about?" came the sharp voice of Hareth, and Lucy realized her life had not been at all quiet.

"Henry was inquiring about breakfast. Do you think we'll be able to have some, later this morning?" she asked, smiling at Hareth. He scowled, and pulled at his oar harder, but Lucy was used to that. It just meant he was trying _not_ to like her, and that meant he might actually like her, and so she'd like him back anyway. Sometimes they just took time. And Purpoise _had_ told her to learn patience. She tried to talk to him more. "What's your favorite thing to have for breakfast?"

He didn't answer, but after a moment Peridan did. "Most of the breakfast at Galma is fish; I particularly enjoy it served in small pieces with cooked eggs. Have you such things in Narnia anymore?"

"I'm afraid I don't know," Lucy admitted. "At least, not for all Narnia. We don't have it for breakfast at Cair Paravel (1).

"We're here," cut in Hareth, with one last pull that almost turned the boat. Lucy turned in her seat, craning her head to see where they were pulling into.

It was a long wooden platform, with _lots_ of boats near it. Boats of all sizes. Narnia wouldn't just get their lords back, she realised with wonder, they'd get a whole sea-faring group of experts! If they came. If Aslan wanted them to.

Their boat ran along the platform, and Perelandra threw a rope around one of the posts and drew the boat close. Peter, closest to the dock on their crowded bench, stood up and jumped, then reached back to help Dourfog, Robin still on his tall shoulder; he took Henry gently and set him down, and helped Lucy out. She stood to her full height and stretched. The boat might have been a little small, she admitted to herself. But it was still fun! She turned back to the sea, and saw the four turtles - Squint on Parable's back, lifted out of the water - ranged by the edge of the wood. She knelt next to them, right in front of Purpoise.

"Are you coming?" she asked. She looked up - there was a slanted road, covered in small pebbles, running up sloping mountains, but she could tell it would be a long walk. "I'm not sure how easy it would be for you," she admitted to them.

"We stay here, Young Queen," said Purpoise. "We have done our task. Aslan left Narnia to you, and this is a part of that task." The deep, slow voice was full of confidence, and peace. "Aslan goes with you. Do not forget that."

She nodded, her nervousness leaving; then bent down and kissed his head. "I'm sure we'll be back later," she told him. "Goodbye Squint! Goodbye Parable! Goodbye Hardshell!" Squint waved a tiny leg and squeaked as he rolled off of Parable's back and splashed in the water; and the group on the dock laughed. Lucy stood up as Peter bowed to their former guides, and, taking her hand, turned towards the road.

The road was long, and steep enough Lucy's calves were aching before they were halfway up. Why did being a queen mean exercising so much? she wondered to herself. Quietly. She wasn't actually complaining; or, she shouldn't. But her feet ached with the sand in her shoes, and she was tired. She hung on to Peter's hand a little tighter. Henry was on his back, furry arms around his neck.

"A little longer, Lu," he said. He smiled at her, and Lucy smiled ruefully back. He wasn't even breathing hard yet. She was going to ask Orieus to give her lessons once they were back in Narnia too. But probably separate from Peter and Edmund's. She'd seen them racing each other up and down the stairs and didn't really want to join till she was a bit taller and keep up.

The other four weren't breathing hard either, and Robin would occasionally flit into the trees and then come winging back. He landed on Dourfog's shoulder just now and whispered something into his ear.

"Silly mountains," said the grumbling voice. "I don't know why Aslan made them. They'll fall onto everyone some day, listen to me and remember. Far too tall, too." But he'd come closer to Lucy while he spoke, and said, "With your permission, Queen Lucy," and picked her up and cradled her in his long, thin arms as easily as she carried Henry.

"Thank you, Dourfog!" she said, and smiled at the bird on his shoulder. "And thank you, Robin." It was like her friends to watch out for her, she thought happily. Purpoise down at the bottom of the mountain, and Dourfog and Robin on the way up, and then at the top it would be her turn. Aslan really had sent them all for specific reasons.

"Thank you, Dourfog," said another voice behind her head. She could hear the approval in Peter's voice. She was so happy Aslan made them kings and queens in a place that took such good care of them.

Dourfog muttered something about longer legs making the journey shorter - if he didn't fall and break them - but soon saved his breath for the climb. About half an hour later, they arrived, and he set her down.

The road smoothed out at the top, at a village surrounded by the drop of a cliff on two sides, the mountain they just climbed (with a very visible road for the entire climb), and a rocky slope going further up behind it. In the small plateau (and the back looked like it had been carved out by tools) was a village. The houses were mostly stone, carefully fit together, but clumsier than most dwarven dwellings. In the back near the mountain tip, midpoint from cliff to cliff, was a long stone hall, higher and better-made than the rest, with small dwellings crowded near each end, and a great wooden door. It was towards the hall the three Exiles went, Peridan and Perelandra calling to the houses as they went "To the hall! To the hall! Get the seven Lords!" From the houses, the yards with gardens of dirt that had to have come from below, and from behind scattered rocks came people - so many people, Lucy thought with a thrill. Fair-skinned (2), young, middle-aged, and elderly, some with baskets they set down, some with tools over their shoulders, all taking up the cry and moving towards the hall. Many gave the group curious looks, some with alarm, but no one stopped them. By the time they'd passed most of the dwellings on that road and approached the hall, the great door had been swung open, a stone rolled in front to keep it so, and a crowd had gathered. An actual _crowd_, Lucy thought, of Narnians they had never met! Dourfog set her down, and she took his hand in hers and Peter's in the other, and the five Narnians followed the three Exiles, the crowd parting to let them through.

Inside the building large tapestries covered the walls, and Lucy looked at them with wonder. They looked like Cair Paravel's, colorful, skillfully woven, and telling stories - one of animals and humans intertwined, dancing together in a green wood, with a lion in gold looking over them all. It felt like walking into a family member's home, and she stood straighter. These were her people too.

Even if they didn't know it yet. They'd continued walking, and soon the crowd blocked a closer look at the tapestries. She turned her attention to the front, instead. There wasn't a dais, like the Great Hall, nor thrones, but there was a long table, running the length of the hall, with chairs behind it. Peridan, Perelandra, and Hareth bowed in front of it, then stood and waited.

Lucy peeked around them, ducking to the side a little. Seven men sat there, two old with white hair (and one with a white beard), three middle aged, all wearing frowns, and two young who looked like they'd just come back from the sea and the wind had fun playing with their hair.

"Why have the three of you called us?" asked the white-bearded one, looking to Peridan to answer.

"We went to go collect wood for the carvers, Lord Brintold, and found a group of beings down on our beach. We asked them their business, and they told us they sought the wanderers from Narnia. They are Narnians, my lord," Peridan added, excitement raising his voice. A building sound, mutters from the crowd becoming exclamations, began growing in the hall. The other elderly lord glared.

"Be silenced!" he said sharply, and Lucy started. He sounded a bit like Hareth.

But the crowd listened. Instantly.

"They _claimed_ to be Narnians," Hareth added, looking at the sharp-spoken lord.

"They had _talking animals_," Perelandra argued, looking at him. She turned back to the table and announced in a louder voice, "And Purpoise and three others like him came with them, and say they spoke true. _Narnians_ have arrived on our shores."

"But there were no Sons of Adam or Daughters of Eve left in Jadis's Narnia," said the middle-aged one with red hair, pushing his chair back as he spoke and standing to see the Narnians better. He waved the three in front of him away.

Peter stepped forward. "The White Witch's reign is ended. Aslan Himself ended her life, and set myself and my siblings on the thrones of Narnia."

"There is more, my lords," said Peridan from their side, and all turned to him. He cleared his throat. "The lady who walks with him is his younger sister, and back in Narnia now-"

"He says," muttered Hareth.

"-are his younger sister and younger brother." Peridan ignored Hareth, fixing his gaze on the red-haired lord, who straightened.

"There are four of you?" he asked Peter, his tone almost as sharp as Hareth's, but sharp with the demands of hope.

"As Aslan's prophecy foretold," Peter said calmly. "I am High King Peter; this is Queen Lucy, the youngest of Aslan's chosen rulers."

"Purpoise called her 'Young Queen,'" Perelandra added in a low tone.

"And you believe them?" It was the white-haired lord again, the one who had demanded silence. "And what could you possibly offer as proof?"

"In Narnia, things must be established on the word of two or three witnesses, by Aslan's decree (3). On the advice of the good counselor Purpoise, we have brought with us witnesses to our royal claim. This," and he unclasped Henry's paws and brought him around front, cradling him, "is Henry the Badger, who grew up in Jadis's winter and is now free of it." Henry bowed, but was speechless, looking like he'd rather hide. Lucy felt sorry for him; of course, he wasn't used to this. But she could see the lords were not convinced; she supposed they could have taught a Badger to bow. "This is our subject Robin, who led us to shelter and guides our first time in Narnia."

Robin bowed and sang out, "Greetings! Greetings! Narnia now blossoms in spring, and calls you back, back, at the words of High King Peter and Queen Lucy!"

"And this is Dourfog the Marshwiggle, who braved the sea in an attempt to guarantee our safety," and Peter indicated the tall figure beside him.

"Still attempting. All the same, things aren't too bad. Going to get worse, I should think," and Lucy squeezed his hand, knowing it probably wasn't good for him to keep talking. After all, the Exiles hadn't met him yet.

"We bring you Narnia's greetings," she called in her clearest voice. "With Aslan's rulers restored, we work to restore all good things to Narnia. There are many Narnians who miss the lords who settled their disputes and worked to ensure their safety. Not many weeks past, I met the good turtle Purpoise on the beach, and he told us the tale of the exiles, and of their grief at leaving. At his instruction, we made rafts and set sail with our witnesses to offer all those here a choice to return to the home you once had. Oh, please do come," she said, not able to keep to formal speech longer. "Narnia's turning into something wonderful again. We sailed through a storm and got shipwrecked and Aslan still brought us here so we could tell you about it. Please do come and be a part."

There was a moment of silence. Some - the white-haired lord who wasn't Lord Brintold, for one - glared at them with hostility. But they really weren't scary after having seen the White Witch, and Lucy wasn't bothered. She'd meant what she said.

"We will think on this," Lord Brintold said.

"I thank you for your consideration," Peter said, his voice quiet but clear. "May I ask of you hospitality and breakfast while you confer?"

"It will be our pleasure to do so," Lord Brintold said. "And, in other manners, I introduce us. This is lord Branther, father to Hareth, whom you have already met," and the white-haired lord nodded curtly, "Lord Jarrick, the leader of our carvers," and the red-headed lord bowed, "who will also see to your care, Lord Peredus, father to Peridan and Perelandra," the golden-haired, middle-aged lord also bowed, and Lucy wondered what he had seen in his children's faces, because the others certainly didn't look ready to bow, "Lord Miltrel," the other sandy-haired, middle-aged man nodded, "and Lords Timoth and Rodger," and the two younger ones stood in greeting.

"I thank you for your welcome," said Peter formally, and bowed in return.

He still looked every inch a magnificent king.

"I will return shortly," said the red-haired Jarrick, walking around the table and speaking to the other lords. "In the meantime, I offer my house and the cooking of my good daughter to you," he said to the travelers, and they turned and followed him from the hall. He led them out and then behind it, to the first wooden dwelling they had seen. It was two stories, with strong posts and smooth walls, and a sailing ship beneath four thrones carved on its door. He opened it to a warm, bright home, filled with delicately carved wooden ornaments. He bid them sit down, and a weary-looking woman with a bright smile, about twenty-five, came and brought them food, and a bowl and hand-towel to wash with. Lucy was very grateful to her, and thanked her often.

"I try to remember common courtesy because my husband and father-in-law, as good and kind as they are, don't often think of it," she said with a laugh. "But my father, Lord Branther, insisted on it." Lucy thought of the cutting voice and glaring face. She wondered. But maybe he was different around family.

"Thank you all the same," she said. She washed her hands, arms, and face, and decided to help Peter, since there weren't any mirrors. Peter served the food while Lucy also used the towel (after they were all finished) to help - very gently - dry off Robin's wings, after he took a bath in the bowl.

"Much better! Much better!" Robin chirped, pecking at the pieces of bread Peter had torn apart for him.

"For now," added Dourfog gloomily. "They didn't seem much like a listening bunch, did they?"

"They don't know us yet, and we bring some pretty odd news." Peter's voice was firm.

"But I don't think they'll all want to leave," Lucy said, thinking. She froze as something struck her. "Peter - what if - what if parts of a family want to leave, and parts want to stay?" She thought of Peridan; she was certain he'd want to come, but if his father was a lord, would he be allowed to? What of his sister? "Peter - what if, by coming here, we separate them?" She shuddered; she couldn't think of anything worse than that. Even when they'd had to leave their mother, in that other place, she'd known she was luckier than many, because she'd still had family with her.

"Calm down, Lu. Those Aslan wants to come, will come." Peter guided her to a seat and put buttered bread in her hand. "And we're going to need them to get home, so I can't imagine He'll leave us stranded here. Especially since the Exiles seem completely separate from anyone else on Galma, and we still need to meet the people of the kingdom here too."

"But preferably not in this." And Lucy giggled, looking down; her arms may have been clean, but her clothes weren't.

"A problem for another time, but a problem" Peter agreed. He put his arm around her, scooting his wooden chair closer. "Try and rest for a bit," he told her. "I've got some thinking to do, and it'll probably be a while before anyone comes for us."

He was right; he often was, Lucy thought when she stirred, perhaps an hour later. Peter was moving his arm and standing up as footsteps sounded in the next room. Jarrick opened the door and came in.

"Would you come with me?" he asked quietly. He bowed as he entered, then stood and said, "The council of lords has some questions."

OOOOO

(1) I admit I am winging it when it comes to meals, because in _Prince Caspain_ the boys think of an English breakfast (which I don't know entirely about, being an American who likes cereal and milk for breakfast), and Caspain thinks of Telmarine one, and they all get bear meat - but I'm thinking both of those would be different from a Golden Age breakfast, so I thought the Exiles, being on the edge of a cliff, would have mainly seafood, and having lived on a very large island for two years, and found out _just how much fish can be put into everything, yes, everything, I'm not kidding_, I made up fish and eggs. Because the Japanese people don't really have separate foods for separate times of day. But that's what I have imagination for, right?  
...Wow, I'm on a roll with long notes today. Stopping now.  
(2) By the way, this isn't me being racist, it's canonically Narnian skin coloring (contrasted to Calormen), and common sense considering the human Narnians were born of an English couple.  
(3) Since that's a Biblical rule, I don't think Lewis would have a problem with me adding that.

A/N: So...this is a much larger cast of characters than I thought I'd have. I've the names and a brief description of each written down in a list to remind myself as I type, but since this is my first time handling such a large group (the fellowship, seven lords, and four of their children so far), please let me know if there's any particular character you'd like to see more of? Otherwise they might fall by the wayside.


	16. Chapter 15 Royalty on Trial

**Chapter 5+5+5: Royalty on Trial**

Disclaimer to all legal systems, imaginary realms, and unfriendly people. I suppose the friendly ones aren't mine either. But I'd be delighted to meet them.

The walk back to the hall was slow, to Lucy's surprise; Jarrick ambled, face turned towards one of the cliffs. Robin was chirping in Dourfog's ear, and Henry was sitting straight on Peter's shoulder, on tiny claw clutching his ear for balance. Lucy, curiously looked where Jarrick was looking and saw a crowd.

"What's happening over there?"

Jarrick looked at her for a moment, and suddenly smiled. "You might as well see for yourself; we can't start till it's done anyway." He steered them towards the comotion.

The crowd stood right to the edge of the cliff, watching one of the stranger contraptions Lucy'd seen. It had a long wooden arm, running up in the air over the cliff's edge, but taller than the crowd. Chains ran along the course of it, and where it was anchored into the ground by means of boulders there were also a few levers, which one of the Exiles was holding in place. The chains were moving, and Lucy realised on the other side two or three men were turning a wheel the chains ran around.

"They're pulling something up," Peter murmured excitedly. He looked at Jarrick. "You all built this?"

He nodded. "We had to get wood up to the top, to build roofs over our heads and such. Carrying it up broke our backs, twisted our ankles, and shredded our fingers, so my grandfather Joseph thought of this. It carries heavy loads from the bottom to the top."

"But why would we need to wait for it come up?" Lucy asked.

Jarrick sobered. "We're bringing your witnesses up from the beach." Lucy looked at him, startled - _witnesses?_ "We couldn't very well ask turtles to climb a cliff, so we're giving them a lift," he clarified, jerking his head. Lucy looked - the chains were bound around either side of a flat wood platform, and on it were two humans and three - no, wait, there was Squint, right on the edge of the platform - all four turtles. Lucy broke into a run, Peter running after her. The crowd, shifting around the contraption's anchor, parted to let her through.

"Purpoise! Parable! Hardshell! Squint!" she called, and Squint waved one front flipper at her and nearly fell off. Parable shot her neck forward and clamped her mouth on his shell, drawing him back. The three older turtles nodded much more sedately as the humans threw ropes onto posts and pulled the platform to the side of the cliff.

"Greetings, Young Queen, High King," said Purpoise, shuffling slowly forward. Squint, excited enough to be impatient, decided to roll, first right, then left, then right into Lucy's feet. She knelt and gently set him on his stomach.

"We rode a _flying raft! It was_ _flat!_" he told her in a high, excited voice. "Even Hardshell's never done that before!"

"It was a new experience," agreed Hardshell from behind him. "I like the water better."

Lucy was so glad to meet her friends she missed the murmuring of the crowd behind her as all the turtles started speaking, but Peter didn't. He stood to his full height and turned around, speaking in a carrying voice.

"Good exiles of Narnia, I wish to introduce to our Narnian subject, Purpoise, and his friend Hardshell, an explorer, his sister Parable, and Squint, who was born this summer on the shores of Narnia." He gestured to the turtles.

Haltingly, some of the Exiles in the front bowed; it spread through the crowd, and the turtles performed their peculiar bow in turn, flippers splayed and heads bobbing. "_Talking turtles_," Lucy heard repeated through it. She scooped up Squint - she could hear Susan's voice saying he'd be sure to get into trouble on his own - and put him on her shoulder like Peter had Henry, holding him there with one hand.

"If everyone is settled, perhaps we could head to the hall?" Jarrick asked.

"Could we ride in a _cart_?" Squint asked excitedly. "A cart, like Purpoise did?"

"I suppose," Jarrick said, looking startled. "Is that what you'd prefer?" he asked of the older turtles.

"It is more fit for your pace, though it is not the most comfortable," Purpoise said in his slow voice. "But perhaps for the sake of your council, it would be good to use them. We move slowly on land."

"Three carts!" Jarrick called to the crowd, and Lucy saw children race excitedly away. Moments later they came careening back, the most excited ones nearly knocking over the adults in their race to be first and get a turtle in their cart.

"Thank you," Lucy said to the first who came back, a blond-haired boy about five years old, and he beamed. Peter and Dourfog gently lifted Parable into the tiny cart - Robin flapping his wings to stay on Dourfog's shoulder as he bent - and Lucy looked at the boy. "Please be careful with him," she said, and a fair-haired women behind him sternly added "Be _gentle_." The boy grinned. Lucy guessed he'd heard that often before. Already Jarrick and another man were lifting Hardshell into a bigger wagon, and Peter was turning to Purpoise. A young girl, sucking her thumb, was watching the whole event with wide eyes, a tiny metal wagon about the height of Lucy's ankle behind her. Lucy walked over.

"May my friend ride in your cart?" she asked politely, and the wide-eyed girl looked at the turtle on Lucy's shoulder, then nodded solemnly. Lucy gently put Squint down in the wagon - a toy from Galma, Lucy guessed - and turned to walk to the hall, taking the girl's hand. The other wagons fell in line. Lucy could hear them rattling, though it was a little drowned out by Squint's squeals of glee.

The wagons rattled over the threshold of the hall. Jarrick caught the back of the toy wagon, and lowered Squint to the floor. All of the turtles made their way down the hall, the Narnians and Exiles keeping pace with them. Jarrick went around the table to take his place, and the council began.

"Two shipwrecked strangers, this boy and this girl, arrived on our shores and claimed to be the new king and queen of our lost Narnia." Lord Brintold was standing, laying out the case. "They claim Jadis has been killed. With them as witness they have brought three Narnians, Henry the Badger, Robin the bird, and Dourfoug the Marshwiggle. Also witness could be called the four turtles, Purpoise, Parable, Hardshell, and…" Lord Brintold hesitated.

"Squint," Lucy called in her clear voice. Lord Brintold bowed.

"They said I'm too young, and to be quiet!" Squint said, a bit of panic in his voice as the hall turned to him. Lucy quickly knelt and put her hand on his head.

"He is a child, Lord Brintold. May he be exempt?" Lord Brintold's mouth curled with humor.

"You are a child yourself," he reminded her, and Peter's hand fell on her shoulder.

"Aslan made her a queen," he said quietly. "Nor is she but months old." The white-bearded lord hesitated.

"I have but two questions to ask of him. Is that permitted?"

Squint turned, looking to the other three of his kind, and they nodded. "Speak truth, and answer simply," Purpoise rumbled out.

"You were born in Narnia?" Lord Brintold's voice was kind, soft, and Squint nodded. "Was it cold there?"

"No, turtles can't be born in cold!" Squint's astonished voice informed them. Obviously the whole world knew this, and once again Lord Brintold's lips twitched. He bowed, and thanked Squint for his answers, and Squint nodded, then hid in Lucy's hem. He called Parable and Hardshell next, and verified with both that the waters around Narnia were warm, for the first time in many, many years, and that turtles were going back to lay eggs there once again.

"By the blessing of Aslan," Hardshell said, in his deep voice. "The talking turtles were dying out. Our eggs do not hatch talking turtles on other shores. We have once again returned to our nesting ground." He paused, and smiled at the small turtle still hiding by Lucy. "Squint is part of the largest generation we have seen in a hundred years, and they all cannot stop talking."

The two young lords - Timoth and Rodger - smiled at his words, but quickly focused back on Lord Brintold as he called Purpoise forward.

"A moment," King Peter said, stepping forward. "Purpoise has put himself under our rule and has sworn his loyalty to us. In return we offer him our protection and whatever help Aslan may give us to bestow. It is in light of this duty that I ask, why these questions are necessary?"

There was a moment of silence.

Peter waited. Lucy, too, looking from face to face. They were closed. The wonder of talking animals vanished. Her heart began to beat faster.

Something had happened here. She and Peter were needed. _Why?_

"You know nothing of our lives," said Lord Branther's harsh voice. He stood, walked around the table, and came to stand directly in front of Peter. He shoved his tunic sleeve up, and held out his bared arm; on it was a long red scar, running from just above his wrist to disappear under his sleeve. "Our new _home_ \- this is our _home_ \- had its own dangers. Pirates attack, each summer; and you wouldn't be the first distraction they've sent in. Jadis would ally with them in a heartbeat, send in talking animals, and then they'd wipe us out, all the Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve who escaped, and she'd sit and laugh on her throne. My daughter, my son, my grandchildren, gone to the swords that took my wife. We don't know you. We don't know _them_. The only one we do know is Purpoise. He was there, traveling with my parents when they escaped. He was there when we mourned. He was there when they landed, when they found a new home. I'll listen to him; he wouldn't touch Jadis with the length of a sailing ship. He speaks."

"If my king gives leave, I will speak," said a rumbling voice behind Peter, and the High King turned and knelt beside his subject.

"If you are sure this is wise, Purpoise," he said quietly. "I will listen to you in this."

Purpoise looked past him to Lord Branther. "It would be wise to listen to all of them," he said in his slow way. "I will speak last." Lord Branther gave a curt nod and went back around. This time it was Lord Peredus who stood.

"My grandfather was the last of the Narnian lords to leave, and it has been given to me to ask the Narnians questions. I call first the youngest of the witnesses they have brought."

"That would be me!" squeaked Henry, and then he cleared his throat. "That would be me, Henry the Badger," he said in steadier voice. Peter gently set him on the table of the Lords, and stood beside him.

"You were born during Jadis's reign?" Lord Peredus's voice was even gentler than Lord Brintold.

"Yes, two years before it ended," Henry's paws clicked on the table repeatedly, and he kept glancing to Peter for support. Peter smiled at him and nodded.

"How did it end?"

Henry blinked. "The snow melted and it was warm again." Lord Peredus paused, looking for words.

"Do you know why?"

Henry nodded quickly. "Aslan came! He landed in Narnia, and shook his mane, and there was spring again (1)!"

"You saw this?"

"No, I was sleeping. But I woke up when it got warmer," Henry added, trying to explain. "The snow all slid off the tree, and we looked out, and grass was appearing! We didn't know why, not till Dad came home, and he told us Aslan was on the move!"

"I see. And you saw Aslan?"

"No, Mum and Dad said we - my brothers and sisters (2) - were too young, and she took us away into hiding, so we'd be safe in the coming battle. But my Dad fought!" Henry added proudly. "But the White Witch turned him to stone," he said, drooping.

"I am sorry."

"Well, that's he met Aslan," Henry added more cheerfully. "And he came home after a great adventure. That's why I came, I wanted an adventure like his. But I don't like them much. They're too wet," he said, wrinkling his nose.

"So you never met Aslan?" Henry shook his head, despondent again. "Did you see Jadis killed?" Henry shook his head again. "Thank you, Henry. I think I'll ask the others questions now."

Robin was next, Dourfog striding forward to set him gently down on the table. The bird cocked his head to look at the lords with one bright eye.

"Robin, do you agree with the events that Henry described, inasfar as you knew them to happen? Aslan landed, and Jadis's winter melted?" Robin nodded in a quick head bob. "Did you see Aslan?"

"At His camp, at His camp!" he chirped. "We were told he was on the move. He came, He came! But first they came, the four He spoke of. I led them to Beaver, I did, I did! Funny looking in their coats, they followed me! I sang to them, and they came! Then off I flew! To find Him, to find Him! And I waited, I waited, till they came too! But only three, only three. And then the wolf, the wolf, the snarling wolf, snapping at the Daughter of Eve, and the High King slew him, he slew him! And we followed, we did, and found the fourth, the fourth! And brought him back, and took him to Aslan. And soon, soon, soon she followed. Didn't like losing, wanted him back. But Aslan, Aslan, Aslan spoke. Aslan roared. She fled, she fled, but He followed. Later we heard He died. But we didn't know, didn't know; we were fighting. Fighting her. After the battle I flew the field, looking, looking, looking for wounded. I saw her body. A little thing, from the air. Little thing, little thing; not any trouble. And soon, soon, soon, the four in funny coats were crowned! They don't look so funny now," he said, winking at Lucy with his other eye, and she was hard put to keep from laughing. She knew it wouldn't be quite appropriate.

"Thank you," Lord Peredus said, raising his voice above the murmurs that had started after Robin finished; his voice had held them spell-bound with his news. "But as one of you has spoken, these thing should be established by more than one witness. Dourfog the Marshwiggle, have you seen any of these things?"

Dourfog looked down at him. "Saw the winter end, I should think. Who wouldn't? It was in all of Narnia. We thought it was the end of the world, our wigwams swamped with all the water, the marshlands a full pond. We thought she meant to make us drown. But we got to shore, expecting the worst, and of course the worst happened." Lucy bit her lip to hide a grin; he sounded almost happy about it. "Her armies came. In great numbers, I remember. She wasn't with them. They were coming back from the Archenland border, I should think. Meant to get another kingdom for herself, bind it to ice. We lured them in to the swamp. We should have died. Didn't know much about fighting. It's a wonder we didn't. But the waters helped us; the naiads awoke. A few brought news. Kings and Queens, and Aslan Himself. I went to see them crowned, I did; wouldn't have believed it otherwise. But He crowned the four them, and first thing they do is set out on another adventure they won't come home from, I should think. Daft thing to do. We'll all regret it eventually, I should think."

"I hope not," Lord Peredus said hastily, before Dourfog could start another sentence. "Thank you." He turned to the lords. "On the testimony of the eyewitness, we have three that agree that Narnia is no longer in winter, and two that agree that Aslan returned, and that these two and their siblings were crowned. Lord Jarrick, I leave the questioning of the two to you."

"I would prefer not," Peter's voice rang out. He came back to Lucy and took her hand. "Lord Jarrick has been most gracious in his hospitality, and has treated us as friends. I thank him," he said with a nod to the red-haired man. "But I would rather we be questioned by one who represents those with doubts. Lord Branther, you have shown us you are a fierce protector of this place and these people. Would you ask us whatever you think needs to be explained?" The seven glanced at each other, Lord Brintold and Lord Jarrick nodding, and the others considering.

"All right," Lord Branther said abruptly, and stood once again. This time he stayed on the other side of the table. "Where did you come from?"

"We come from another land, one the Narnians call Spare Oom," Peter said.

"We didn't mean to get into Narnia. We stumbled there by accident," Lucy added. "But I met Tumnus - he's a faun - and we became friends, and I came back - with Edmund, and then I came back a third time, and everyone came with me, and we loved Narnia, and we met Aslan, and He saved Edmund, and made us kings and queens."

"That is preposterous," said the sandy-haired, middle-aged Lord. Lucy thought - what was his name? - Miltrel.

"It is not," said Lord Jarrick in a peaceable tone. "It is said that the first Narnian king and queen came from another world as well." Lucy and Peter glanced at each other, startled. This was a story they'd have to hear sometime, Lucy thought.

"It is the truth, and therefore the only answer we can offer you," Peter said. "Have you other questions?" he asked of Lord Branther.

"Why did you come to find us?"

"We thought you might want to come home," Lucy said. She looked at their faces - she could see longing in many of them, strong in some than others. "And we need help to rule Narnia; it's too big, even if there's four of us. And then we go here, and something was wrong, and I think Aslan wanted us here anyway." She met Lord Branther's hard gaze unflinchingly. He studied her in return.

"You believe in Aslan strongly, for one so young," he said abruptly.

"Well, I've met Him, you see," she explained.

"For some, that's not enough." He paused. "You claim good intentions and Aslan's appointment, and those are things we'll have to take - or not - on faith. But I would wish, now, to question Purpoise. With your leave," he said to Peter, and Lucy smiled. He was actually asking, not being polite.

"You may," Peter said. He too turned towards the turtle.

"This man said you swore him allegiance." Lord Branther's voice was more respectful, less curt, and he waited with patience for Purpoise's slow words.

"I did," Purpoise affirmed.

"You have told us, in the past, that you only did so to one other king. Tell me, if you would, why would you swear to these ones?"

"I taught them to sail," and Lucy leaned against Peter's side, for this was his story-telling voice, and she felt a little odd to be the one he was telling a story about. But it was an honor, too. "The Young Queen first, who talks like a young turtle, but learned to listen in a single afternoon. Then the others came, and with the courtesy of Aslan's own, asked for help. A humble queen, and a gracious one. And when they built the raft, the four of them, they listened, and they worked. And they found it impeded their duties, and learned to balance them. And then, as they sailed, they laughed. They love each other much, and the Narnians who learned to sail they also love. But then the raft overturned. This little one, who laughs with her heart, and who loves with all she is, and Aslan the most, went underwater. Her brother sheltered her with his own body; the older sister, the younger brother. I waited, thinking it might be an action, rather than a habit, but then in her tiredness the young one struggled to walk, and the king lifted her onto his own back, and bore her tiredness in spite of his own. They are kind, and learning wisdom, and they are Aslan's. They love and they have humility. I could ask for no greater kings and queens to follow." Lucy pressed her blushing face into Peter's shirt; his hand stroked her hair unevenly, and she guessed he was blushing too.

A silence fell over them, and then Peter pushed Lucy up and bowed to Purpoise. "Aslan gave us a subject who would also be a counselor and guide," he said gravely. "We thank Him for that gift, Purpoise, and for your kind words." Lucy followed his gaze to Purpoise, and curtsied.

"Thank you," she said to her friend.

"The praise of the praiseworthy is said to be above all rewards (3)," said Lord Branther. When he met Peter's eyes, and then Lucy's, his animosity seemed to be gone. "If you truly came here for us, then you have my thanks." He bowed, and Lucy thought to herself there was something incredibly sweet about winning friendship when it was hard.

"It still isn't _proof_," said Lord Miltrel said sharply. "They could still be enemies. It's not enough for us to leave our home."

"I think that will need to be an individual decision," Lord Brintold said quietly. But he stood, and addressed the crowd. "On the evidence of many witnesses, it has been said that Jadis is dead, Narnia free, and these two crowned by Aslan. As such, they are given the freedom of the town. Tonight, in your families, with your friends, the council advises you speak about your future. To return, or to stay; Narnia, or the Village of the Exiles. Those who wish further clarification, or to listen to council, may approach any of the lords. But for now, I ask each to state their intent." He looked to his right and his left, landing on Lord Peredus at the end of the table.

"I am for Narnia," he said, standing. He looked to his children, standing on the inner edge of the crowd. "My children have long heard the stories, and I do not have to ask to know what their hearts will desire. We will go back." He sat and Lord Miltrel stood.

"We should stay, all of us," and his voice was equally firm. Hard, even, with determination. "Our life here is good, and we need none other. Certainly not one with animals that are witnesses or doomsaying predictors. I will stay. And my family, too, if they know what is good for them."

"Narnia," Lord Jarrick said, standing. His voice was clear, and the hope running in it reminded Lucy of Mr. Beaver's when he'd said Aslan was on the move. "My grandfather left Narnia after carving the four thrones that looked forward to Jadis's death, and I believe it has happened now. My father and I both have worked on a ship that would one day head back for Narnia. At their Majesties' bidding, it will launch, and all who wish to sail on it are welcome."

Lord Timoth stood. "I do not know, yet," he said quietly. "I will think on this tonight." He hesitated. "There is no shame in taking time to think, any of you," he said to the crowd of Exiles. "This is your future and your home. Do not make the decision quickly."

"Is that a rebuke, Lord Timoth?" said Lord Peredus amusedly. Lord Timoth bowed.

"No, my lord, only a reassurance to those who are still thinking," he said, a small smile on his face; then he sat.

"I do not think I will go," Lord Rodger said. Jarrick and Branther looked at him in surprise, and he held up his hand. "My heart longs for Narnia, but this will not be a universal decision," he said quietly. He looked over to Peter and Lucy, his eyes respectful in his young face. "I would trust this King and Queen to lead them; but those who remain will need leadership still. I stay with those who will need me more." He bowed, and Lucy felt like running to give him a hug. She could read the longing on his face. Maybe there was some way they could work to get everyone to go, and then he could come. But Lord Brintold was rising.

"I will not give my opinion, because it carries too much weight, I think," he said slowly. "For those who want to go, go. The testimonies are clear. For those who want to stay, stay. This has become home for many of us. But look to your words, and your actions; do not blame others for making a different choice. Aslan may be leading them differently." He sat again, and Lord Branther stood.

"I am with Rodger," he said, his voice once again sharp. "Many will go - and many should go. But those remaining behind will need a defence."

"Then I will stay with them," said another sharp voice, and Hareth stepped forward. "I saw it in your face, Father," he said more respectfully. "And Hadassah will go with Jarrick. Timoth and Rodger are young, but old enough to be on the council. I will take your place here. Go where your heart is leading."

Lord Branther stared at him for a moment. Whatever his thoughts were, Lucy could not read them. "We will discuss this tonight, in private," he said at last. "The council is dismissed."

Conversations arose everywhere, neighbor turning to neighbor. Lucy picked up Squint - Peter already had Henry, and Robin seemed to have decided Dourfog was the best perch in the island. He was certainly the tallest, Lucy thought. A touch on her elbow made her turn.

"I would escort you back to Lord Jarrick's, Lady," said Lord Branther, and Hareth was walking behind him. Jarrick was already next to Peter, and together the group - walking much more slowly due to the turtles - made its way out of the hall and back to the carpenter's house. Somehow, she knew, they weren't going to get to sleep right away.

But they had witnessed. They'd asked for the Exiles to come home. The rest was in Aslan's hands. And she wondered, as they walked, if this is what Aslan had sent them to do.

Or maybe there was something more?

OOOOO

A/N: So…I was going to post a chapter in the next item on my prompts list tonight as well, but I was screwing a beam into a tree and a fence at my sister's to hang a swing on, and it turned into a one-and-a-half-hour project because I was dealing with unforeseen obstacles (this was my first time doing this), and then this ended up being seven (single-spaced) pages instead of three, and it's an hour past my self-appointed bedtime. Goodnight, guys. Maybe this weekend.

(1) I borrowed the wording from LWW.  
(2) Apparently badgers can give birth to 2 - 5 kits at a time. I kind of want to see that, it sounds adorable.  
(3) Quoted _almost_ word-for-word from another book, and another author - any guesses as to where and what, which character? :)


	17. Chapter 16 A Rock-climb with Turtles

**Chapter (4 squared, because I can't get a tiny "2" to work)****: An Rockclimb with Turtles**

A/N: This may be the last I post for about a week; I'm heading out at 5am for the next few days for a place with very spotty internet. My sister and I might head into town (I hear there's a good bookstore there), and take our laptops along and read in a coffee shop, but that is a _might_. No promises.  
Also, this was in answer to a request for more Squint, and for Parable to tell more Purpoise stories.

Disclaimer: This tale has gotten wildly out of hand, and I'd rather not take the blame. Which is good, because it's not primarily a creation of mine anyway, and therefore not mine to own. Just enough to, you know, absorb my evenings and weekends and give me a great deal of enjoyment.

Jarrick's wife, Hadassah, was waiting. She led them to the same room the Narnians had gathered in earlier without comment, pulling a chair forward for her father as the rest of them settled. There weren't enough chairs, and Lucy sat on the floor.

"Your Majesty, please take my chair," "Here, your Majesty," and "Lu, you can sit here," sounded at the same time as Jarrick, Hareth, and Peter all offered her a seat, but she smiled up at all of them.

"I'm happy here," she said simply. She tugged on Peter's leg till he sat again, and looked at the three other men, and Dourfog, who were all standing. "Please sit down," she said. "I'm quite happy on the floor, really." Slowly, they sat, and Lord Branther cleared his throat.

Just then a knock on the door sounded; with a glance at his wife, Jarrick went to answer it. They heard the door open and shut, with low voices; then another knock. Jarrick opened it again, and came back with Lord Brintold, who took Hareth's seat with quiet thanks, and also Lord Timoth, who bowed on entering, smiled at Lucy, and sat down on the floor across from her. He too looked to Lord Branther.

Branther was looking at his daughter. "You heard?" he asked.

"I was in the hall," she responded softly. Jarrick came over to stand by her, setting his hand on her shoulder; she reached up and placed hers over it.

"And you will go?"

"I follow my husband." Jarrick smiled down at the top of her head.

"So be it," and his voice was weary. Branther looked over at Peter. "Robin said you slew a wolf," he said, a bit of his sharpness reentering his voice. "How many enemies are left in Narnia?"

"We do not know. We broke the back of her army, the day she died. Aslan breathed life into those whom she turned to stone, and Queen Lucy healed many with a gift Father Christmas gave her. But we still get reports of fell creatures, and my brother and myself go and hunt them. Our general things it will take a few years to completely stamp them out."

"But you have seen combat," he murmured, and said in a louder voice, "But you are the definite victors. And you can offer us a safe haven?"

"Cair Paravel is safe," Lucy said from the floor. "General Orieus wouldn't let anything happen there."

"But your old homes may not be," Peter added quietly. "You may be needed there as well." Lord Branther and Lord Brintold both nodded, troubled looks on their faces. "What more can we offer you, to help with your decision?" Peter asked.

"I need to speak with my family," Lord Branther said. Peter stood.

"That is probably best done with just you all, then. But have you need of anything?" he asked of the other two visiting lords. Lord Brintold stood slowly.

"I wish to go," he said, slowly. "I am old enough to remember the stories the first generation told, of a home ringing with laughter in the woods." ("Not from the marshes, I should think, we're not that flighty," muttered Dourfog.) "But as an old man I have little to offer Narnia as it is. Unlike Lord Branther, I no longer have the strength to wield a sword."

"It was an old Narnian who led us here," Peter pointed out. "Aslan gave us Narnians of all ages, and all are needed. Your wisdom and fairness would be a great blessing to my royal brother, Edmund, who has started to rebuild Narnia's system of justice. If you go, he would be most grateful for a teacher." A smile curved Lord Brintold's lips, and he bowed, then looked to Lord Jarrick.

"I will board your ship, if I may," he said, and Jarrick nodded.

"I do not think I can leave Rodger; we have been sworn brothers since we were but three years of age," Timoth said. He too stood and bowed. "But it was an honor to meet you, your Majesties." He looked to Peter. "Would you come and speak with Rodger and I for a while? I think we could use your advice on defense for a smaller village with fewer fighters." Peter assented, and together most of the group left the room, leaving Jarrick, Hareth, Hadassah, and Branther to speak. Peter turned before he left.

"I say, Lu, what are you going to do?"

"I think I'll go exploring," she said, and grinned as he frowned. "Don't worry, Peter, I'll take some people with me."

"I think Squint would also like to explore," said Parable's voice from the floor. "If your Majesty doesn't object to a slow pace, the two of us might join you?" Lucy's face lit up with one of her largest smiles.

I would love that. I've been meaning to ask you more stories about Purpoise when he was younger. And I know Squint would love exploring," she said, smiling down at him. The other Narnians (minus Peter) were taken by exiles waiting outside to go sleep, but Lucy wasn't feeling tired yet. So much had happened. She turned to the two turtles next to her, kneeling to be at their level.

"Where would you like to go, Squint?"

"Can we go higher? Up _that_ high? All the way up to the very top?" Squint said. Lucy turned to look, catching herself with one hand, to see where he was staring. Beyond Jarrick's house, to the top of the mountain.

She looked at Parable. "Can turtles climb? Can you get up there?" she asked doubtfully.

"If there is a road; though you will have to carry Squint by the end of it, your Majesty. But we can, yes. I'm probably one of the few turtles that would be certain of that," she said, laughter rolling again through her voice as she began to pull herself towards the mountain, cutting off Squint's protest that he would _not_ need to be carried. "It wasn't only in the sea that Purpoise had to watch out for me," and one of her eyes closed slowly and opened again, a turtle's wink. Lucy walked easily beside them, thinking how fun this was; the voices of all new people, settling into their homes, calling goodnights, discussing things. But all those were fading a bit, as the three slowly walked around Jarrick's wooden home. Lanterns were lit behind them, one in front of each house, hanging from the roofs. But in front of them was the dark silhouette of the mountain top, a little higher than Cair Paravel's walls, rocky and slanting. A path led from the back of Jarrick's house to the bottom of it, and the three scooted along.

"Parable," Lucy said, breaking the silence, "_why _were you climbing mountains or rocks before? And why did Purpoise have to save you?"

Parable didn't answer for a moment, nudging Squint with her long, slender head when he stopped to examine a large stone on the side of the path. They were at the bottom of the slope. "I never understood why Aslan made turtles to live in the sea, but be born on land." She flopped closer to Lucy to avoid a rock in the path that would have caught her flipper (1). "It made no sense to me. If we can be on both, why not suit us for both? Why is water such a joy, an asset to us, but land, where we're _born_, is such a tedious, painstaking thing?" Her voice was light, but Lucy could no longer hear the laughter. It must have been honest, puzzling questions for her, when Parable was young. "I decided it was because turtles never _practice_ staying on land, or going far inland. We dry out eventually, but on days when water fills the air - I think I have heard humans refer to it as _humid_ \- we can stay out for over a day (2). So I decided, after I'd explored all of the coast of Narnia, and met merfolk and marshwiggles and fish that wouldn't talk no matter how hard I tried, that it was time I went on land and explored that, too.

But by then Purpoise had found out what a troublemaker I was. I must have stood out; we had 108 siblings (3), and he was the largest, fastest turtle of the group! I was the second-littlest, and very, very good at hiding. So I didn't catch his attention at first. He was the one all of us listened to, and anytime something dangerous happened - there were plenty of gulls who didn't know a talking turtle from their regular food - he'd swim out and catch their attention and then dart away. He never had to rescue me. But he was such a good leader all of us stayed safe, through learning how to hide and eat and get food. Some of the braver, bigger ones had gone out and met merfolk. I'd been so busy staring at the land I hadn't gone with them-"

"Wait," Lucy interrupted. "Please," she added hastily, but by now she was confused. "You said you'd met them, and other Narnians already."

"I did - after. Oh, I suppose I'm telling the story out of order. I tend to do that; Purpoise says my mind darts from one thing to another like a fish chasing reflected light. My first few days," she said more slowly, "I spent most of the time hiding, and remember the day we were born, the rough gold stuff under my fins, and the bright, bright light; the way things never moved. But when others started bringing back stories, then I started exploring. And that's when Purpoise finally realised what a troublemaker he had on his hands. I'd go out to the merfolk, but split apart from the group and swim with one of them into waters too deep for small turtles; Purpoise had to ask the merfolk to bring me back. And I got caught in a Marshwiggle's net, and bit through it, and the gloomy land-dweller muttered, 'It was bound to happen,' and threw me on the shore. I tucked my head in - no little feet while flying through the air, by the way - and rolled on landing, and got stuck between two tree branches. Purpoise, who'd heard from three of our siblings where I was headed, came searching for me, and spent hours chewing on one branch and using his weight to bend it away, so I could get out. He got me back to our hiding place, and spent the night there, calming me when I had nightmares."

"Peter would do that too," Lucy admitted, thinking about it. "It must be a big brother habit."

"A good big brother habit," Parable agreed. "I think that's when he realised he needed to keep a closer eye on me. By then most of our siblings were smart enough to not get eaten, so I kept him from being bored. But then, well, I went as far as Purpoise would let me. I'd started listening to him - a bit. A very little bit. I noticed I came home with fewer bruises that way. But - inside me I had a growing desire for the land. I'd swim as close as I could and look at it; I'd hear the gulls and wonder what it would be like to land on the sand every day. It was everything I wanted, and everything I knew I could have - for a few hours at a time." And I couldn't get far, but I started trying. Every time Purpoise would go find food to eat, I'd slip away and onto the shore. I stuck to the sand at first - where I was born. I looked at broken egg shells and nests and crabs, and stones and watch as water changed everything and smoothed it down. And I'd try to work on my crawling. I was large enough the gulls couldn't eat me anymore, heavy enough they couldn't lift me anyway. And I learned how to retreat. But then…" Parable fell silent.

"You can't stop there!" Lucy protested. Parable shook her head back and forth.

"I'm sorry, little one. Talking with you makes me feel young again. The curiosity, the eagerness, that the very young have. That Squint has," she said, smiling where the little turtle had gone farther up the path, "and that you have, your Majesty. But that eagerness often leads to impetuous actions, and in my case, it led to rough consequences. I got tired of the beach, and one day I heard a new sound, from the dark place not far. I found out later it was a nightingale, singing in the treetops. But I did not know that then, and I headed for the forest. A forest is not a place for a turtle, little one. My flippers started bleeding, and my shell was scratched. But I was stubborn, and I kept going, trying to find the noise. But I pushed myself up on a fallen tree, and fell, and a branch pierced through my flipper, and I could no longer put weight on it. I started crying, and a bear heard me - a black bear, half the height of a tree, and enormous to my small eyes. I started crying harder than ever when it lumbered up, sure it was going to eat me. But it sleepily asked me where I was going, and when I couldn't answer, tried to feed me some of the honey on its paws. It glued my mouth together and I stopped crying to try to breathe. By the time he'd finished trying to brush it off me with the inside of his sticky claws and was licking them off to try to make them better, I decided he wasn't going to eat me, and asked if he could get me back to the sea. Purpoise was frantically looking for me - he was still a young thing then - and scolded me sharply and at length, thanked the bear profusely, and found sea moss to put on the cuts. I told him all about my adventure, and he reminded me that turtles _aren't made for land_. Funny, considering where he is right now. That night I didn't sleep much; my flipper hurt too much. An hour after dawn I finally fell asleep, and when I woke, the sun high, I found Purpoise had gone to shore and found out what I'd heard the day before. Two days later, when I could crawl again, he took me to shore and the nightingale was waiting for us. I found he liked learning things just as much as I did - only in a much safer, more polite way." Parable smiled. "I like to think I'm a bit better now."

"Did you stop longing for land after that?" Lucy asked curiously. "If you don't mind talking about it, I mean," she added hastily.

"No, dear one, I longed for it just as much. I was still convinced I just had to learn to avoid the dangers. So I avoided the forest, and turned towards rocky shores instead. Hence my answer to your question," she said, and once again her laughter rippled. "But turtles are short, and I could never go far; the stones would roll away underneath me, or be too steep to climb. But one day I saw the most marvelous thing. There are long brown creatures with thick bodies and short flippers, with a single tail and whiskers. Sometimes they are too fat to get on rocky shores, so they wait, till the rising tides, and ride the waves, jumping from the water just before it crashes into the rock. I didn't tell Purpoise, of course - even with our shells, the speed of the water against rocks would bruise us. But I watched, every day, for a week; and then I tried it. I humped, shrank into my shell, and found myself flying farther and higher than the creatures - I was so much lighter! I flew over their whiskered heads, and bashed myself onto the rocks. Stunned, I stayed there, fighting to breathe. When I could I do that again slowly, so slowly, I extended my head and checked my shell for cracks. There weren't any - thank Aslan! - He truly cares for reckless - but I looked around, and found boulders, everywhere I looked. Two were far too large to even think of climbing. Behind me was an uncomfortable, rocky slope, but it led right to another boulder. All that was left was the sides. They were high, especially for as small as I was then - I was three years old. I tried climbing them; I could almost make it. Again and again I tried; over and over, I fell on my bruised body. It wasn't as miserable as the forest - I still felt capable of getting _out_. But finally, when the sun was low, and I knew Purpoise would be looking frantically for me (but this was not Narnia, so the animals I saw couldn't talk, you know). But jumping - turtles don't do that well - wasn't working, so finally I tried something else. I took all the small stones I could find, and piled them in a pile, and rolled up it towards the boulder as fast I could. I just made it over the edge, pulled out of my shell proudly - and found another wall. It was a long, long night, a bruising one. I was tired, and sore. I was covered in dirt as well. The moon rose and set. Dawn began, and I was closer to the sea, and so, so tired. All the large animals were sleeping, and honked at me grumpily when I made noise, and one finally had enough. It raised its large head - a head as large as my entire body - and glared, eyes black in light of the sun rising. It raised its flipper - I can still remember what it looked like, against the dawn - and hit me _hard_. I went flying, soaring once again, and fell off the shore and into the sea. Purpoise had alerted the entire group of turtles, and two saw me instantly; four a few moments later, when they came to investigate the splash. The two came to help me - they were siblings who were rather adept at finding me, actually, and had learned basic care. The other four swam for Purpoise, and he came as fast as he could swim. He made as many bubbles as I did when I fell in, come to think of it. He sent the four to cancel the search parties, and the other three took me home, and put me to bed. And lectured me the next day, but it was worth it.

But that still didn't sate my love for the land. It is surprisingly easy, as easy as a turtle moving through water, to love that which we don't have; a lot harder to love that which we've been given."

"But you love the sea now, don't you?" Lucy asked anxiously. Parable seemed so _happy_, Lucy couldn't bear to think that wasn't true. And true to her past conversations, she laughed again.

"Oh yes, little one. I love the land still, but do not long for it. I found the secret to that contentment was to love the sea _more_, to search out the hidden corners, swim the currents, see the depths, and marvel at the coral. Gradually, bit by bit, my heart was turned away from the land it should not have by a growing love for the sea. I had to learn to love what Aslan made me for. And He taught me that lesson full well, though it took fifty years. By the time Narnia's shores turned to ice, and we could no longer go often ashore in our safest haven, my heart was the sea's. Enough that I had not looked to go on land in a hundred years, twice the time it took me to love the sea. Still, fifty years is a very long time." Her voice was soft with regret, but not heavy with it. "And it has been good to feel the sand; even to fly again, on wood rising up a mountain. There are still things to love on land. But it is not home, and I love it as a traveler, not as a temptation."

"I'm glad," Lucy said. By now the voices and lights of the village were far behind, down below them. She paused to look at it. "I never thought about belonging to the land," she said thoughtfully. "But I think I understand. I like rafting - well, not the storm. I was worried about Peter and the others. But I did like it, and the sea. But I will be very glad to be home again." She paused. "I hope we bring others home as well. I think it's still their home. For some reason I don't think they should stay here, when everyone else is leaving."

"If Aslan calls them, they will come, little Queen. Do not doubt the power of the Lion," said Parable gently. "But where has Squint gone to?"

Lucy turned. The little turtle had been babbling for the first part of their trip up, exclaiming over bushes - "_They_ don't grow underwater" - but had quickly tired himself out. He seemed as stubborn as his current turtle-sitter, however, and had determinedly pushed himself farther up the mountain.

And he'd disappeared while Lucy stopped to view the village. For a just a moment she felt the chill she'd heard Peter and Susan talk about, terror causing one swift intake of breath and goosebumps on her skin.

"_Squint!_" she yelled. "_Squint, where are you?_"

"Here, Queen Lucy! Here! I found it! Come and see!" Squint's voice came from their right, up a bit, and was tired but happy, and Lucy breathed again. Parable started pulling herself over that way, and Lucy scrambled over.

"Where are you? I can't see you at all!" Lucy called. She realised with a start it was very dark. There was no moon yet; and her older siblings would have a fit if they realised she'd be climbing down a mountain top in the dark. She'd just have to hope this tale never got back to Susan.

Squint was calling again, sounding like Robin with his repeated, "Here! Here! Here!" Lucy followed the sound as best she could, but went more and more slowly as she started hitting her shins and toes on rocks. Wherever they were, they'd left the path. "Stop, Queen Lucy, stop!" squeaked a voice from the dark beside her, and she stopped, panting. She could hear Parable shuffling behind her, and she knelt, slowly, wary of kneeling on the little turtle. She put her hands down, feeling around - and felt her hands drop off the edge, not a hand's breadth in front of her. She hastily pushed herself back. (4)

"Squint?" she whispered.

"Here, Queen Lucy, here!" said a voice just beside her, and she felt a small flipper pat her arm. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Lucy looked, and could see his point. Below them was the village, the lanterns still lit. It was peaceful, shining like a collection of tiny dots of fire collected in a circle, and quiet, with the sound of the sea far below, and overhead the stars. She drew a breath, and let it out. "It is beautiful, Squint," she said, stroking the tiny shell. It was as if the mountain itself cradled the village, and the sea sang it a lullaby. She could see why some of the Exiles wouldn't _want_ to leave. Especially if they hadn't seen Narnia.

But she knew they had to. Only she didn't have words for _why_, only that it was part of the reason Aslan sent them.

Parable gently bumped into her other arm. "We should go back, little one. You will need rest tomorrow. I do not think one day's work will settle this task."

Lucy sighed. "Somehow going down isn't as fun as coming up," she admitted, and Parable laughed.

"It is if you can roll!" said Squint, and suddenly he was gone from her arm, rolling, away from the edge, thank Aslan. She could _hear_ him, rolling over stones, and then she heard a very loud _THUNK_.

"Squint?" she called in chorus with Parable.

"Ow," they heard his tiny voice. "Ow, ow, ow. OW." Lucy crawled towards the sound, hands in front of her, sliding back and forth over the sharp rocks, trying to find the smooth, hard shell. But then she froze.

There was another noise.

A rattling, cracking, rolling noise, building up and getting stronger, and she tried - she'd heard this before, what -

Stones hitting stones; stones rolling; stones _falling_. "_Squint_!" she screamed, and grabbed for him blindly, catching his shell and cradling him close, turning and grabbing one of Parable's flippers and _dragging, _back to the path, back, back, and down, down, she couldn't outrun an avalanche but she would try, she fell and got up and ran, skidded, fell, and rolled, rolled and felt Parable's flipper slip out but heard her yelling _GO!_, and kept rolling, bumping into stones, over stones, one in her _ribs_ and she couldn't breathe, wrapping herself around Squint and praying to Aslan they made it down.

She hit something wood like the trunk of a tree and nearly threw up. She lay there, stunned, a small shell the size of a plate rattling in her hands, and she listened.

Everything was quieter. The stones - they were still falling, but more distantly now, and slowing, quieting, the roar becoming a growl. She stayed there, breathing, feeling every bruise - those wouldn't be fun to explain to Peter - and listened as it died away to a few more cracks, than silence.

They were on the edge of the village - she'd rolled into a wooden post used to hang a lamp on, and for some reason her mind thought it should be black and made of iron, but she dismissed that thought; that would have hurt much more. Carefully she sat up.

She could move. She didn't think she'd broken anything. But she wished she had her cordial with her, she thought. She sucked in air; she was starting to cry. She couldn't cry, she still had a little child to take care of.

"Are you all right, Squint?" she asked in a low voice. It was trembling, but she couldn't help it.

"I think so," squeaked his voice. She felt a smooth, scaly limb press her arm; and looked down to see his head come out in the light of the lantern. "Queen Lucy?" he asked after a moment. "You roll really well for someone without a shell."

Lucy laughed, and stopped herself before it could become a sob. "It really hurts," she said. "But we need to go find Parable. Do you want to stay here while I go look for her?"

"No...need," said a tired, slow, strained voice, and there was a shuffle as Parable slowly pulled herself into the circle of light they were sitting under. "I...forgot...how much...I didn't miss...the bruising part, of being...on land," she puffed. "Queen Lucy, turtles have...no need...of shelter. We will sleep...here...and be better tomorrow. You should," and she flopped down with a sigh, right next to the two of them, "find shelter."

"You're sure?" Lucy asked. She wanted nothing more than _Peter_ right now, or Susan or Edmund, but she was a queen, even if she wasn't their queen.

"Go," said Parable. "I am...too tired, and too bruised...to argue...with you." Lucy gently put Squint down next to Parable, and both turtles drew rested their heads on the dirt, touching each other. "_Go_," Parable said, more firmly.

"Good night," Lucy said softly, and touched both their heads. She stood, a few more tears spilling at how much that _hurt_, and headed for Lord Jarrick's house.

OOOOO

(1) By the way, I am aware that it would take an _incredible_ amount of energy to continually lift oneself up and move one's entire body forward on flippers (especially up a slope, that's not too much fun even with two legs), but please bear in mind turtles also swim for hours at a time, and mountain tops are rarely very, very steep at the top; I've only been on one that was actually vertical, and it was a volcano. Most of the time it's a sharp but climbable sope, at least in WV, NC, TN, and Japan. Though several of them might have enormous stones that are unclimbable at the _very _tip.  
(2) This is true of pet turtles, by the way; I couldn't find the answer for green turtles. Sorry. :(  
(3) _One_ nest has, on average, 110 eggs. And a female makes anywhere from two to _nine_ nests a season; but only lays eggs every 2-3 years. And so many little turtles get eaten. :( Which is why they're not overwhelming the ocean, but if King Dwarfsteel ordered the haven for them, then _wow_, that shore would be teeming with baby turtles. It's probably how they survived the Long Winter, when they couldn't hatch more talking turtles.  
(4) Apparently turtles can see in the dark, but only a little better than humans can. I'm meaning to imply that his eyes adjusted to the dark better than Lucy's did, and he saw the edge and saved her from it. :) Hopefully that worked.

A/N: Guys, this is 450 words more than my last chapter. If they're too long, let me know? I can shorten them (it might even be good practice for me).


	18. Chapter 17 Another Climb

**Chapter XVII: Another Climb**

Disclaimer: It's 5:24 in the morning, I'm starting a sixteen hour trip, and I can't think of anything clever. Narnia and all associated with it aren't mine.  
And I wrote this intermittently till about 9pm, so all mistakes, errors in continuity, and sheer absurdity are mine. Absolutely mine. My brain says you're welcome.  
**I updated this on 08/08 to fix some typos and a reference.**

OOOOO

Lucy could _see_ Jarrick's home, dark in the night, the single lantern hanging above his door. But her arms, one ankle, and her back hurt with every step, courtesy of the rocks, and her stomach had a few Squint-shaped bruises. She wanted _Peter_.

Two steps. Three steps. Staggering, three more steps; she was finally near the door, under the lantern. She leaned against the doorpost – careful of her arms - and tried to open it.

It was barred.

She started crying in earnest then, knocking as loudly as her one good hand could, and calling "Peter! Peter!"

Footsteps, quick and heavy, and the noise of a wooden bar scraping against the door. It swung open and Lucy stumbled forward, right into Peter, and reached around his waist to hug him tight.

"Lu, what's wrong?" His arms hugged her, then he pushed her back, looking at her in the light of the lantern. "Lu, _what happened? _You're all over bruises! We thought you were staying with Perelandra, Peridan, and the like! Are you all right? Is anything broken?"

"Bring her inside," said a voice behind him, soft but quick. "We leave the doors barred at night." Peter picked her up – gently – and carried her inside, Hadassah barring the door again behind them. Peter was trying to check Lucy's bruises while holding her at the same time. "Bring her in here," Hadassah interrupted, walking back to the familiar room they'd gathered in before. Jarrick, attracted by the noise, hastened in as well, and left as quickly, returning with a cloth and a bowl of water. Hadassah was rifling a cabinet, taking out herbs, which she put in the water. Peter set Lucy on a stool by the fire as gently as he could.

"We had to learn a great deal about the new plants here, but we know the medicines quite well – we needed them so much – here, Queen Lucy, let me," and she was taking the cloth from her husband, who'd been wringing it out, and dabbing Lucy's face. Her touch was gentle, as gentle as the mother Lucy was already forgetting, except in moments like this. She cleaned away the dirt all over Lucy's face, and placed the cloth on the developing bruise on her cheek. Jarrick, who'd risen and left, was back with more cloths, and Hadassah and Peter began wrapping the worst of the bruises.

"Lu, what happened? Were you attacked?" Peter asked, winding the cloth around her forearm several times.

"By rocks," Lucy said, half crying still. The water stung before it soothed, and every small cut burned. "Squint rolled into one, near the top of the mountain, and then we heard many more began rolling down. We ran to get away." Peter's hand clenched around her wrist.

"You started an _avalanche_?" Jarrick sounded stunned. "And you escaped? In the dark, on the mountain?" Peter was holding so tightly it was causing another bruise.

"We didn't mean to!" Lucy said, crying again. She didn't want Peter to think it was her fault, but she couldn't blame Squint, and she was so _tired_ of hurting.

"Hush, dear, we know," Hadassah soothed. She frowned at her husband and mouthed "not helping!"

"Sorry, it's just – you must be Aslan's own, your Majesty, that should have been impossible."

"I rolled like a turtle, after I slipped," Lucy explained. "Peter, you're hurting my wrist."

Peter unclenched his fingers, carefully, and gently brushed her wrist as an apology. "Sorry, Lu. You scared me." He picked up another cloth, and looked right at her face. "I don't want you wandering off without me again while we're here," he said seriously. "Stay in the village." Lucy nodded, and Peter reached over and hugged her, a long hug, and Lucy felt his arms trembling. "We'll talk about it more in the morning, Lu. Go get some sleep."

Lucy slipped off the stool, Peter catching her arms where there weren't cloths, ready in case she fell. He escorted her to her bed, and she fell asleep almost immediately, missing the conversation Peter and Jarrick had in front of the fire.

Peter was gone the next morning when Hadassah woke her; the lady said he'd gone to seek out Purpoise. "I think you gave him a right good scare last night, and he went seeking advice on how to handle it," Lucy was told. "And he may have been right to. Your Majesty, you are all over bruises."

"I know," Lucy said, gingerly touching her cheek. "But I really didn't mean to. Really."

Lady Hadassah sighed and shook her head. "I don't suppose you did."

"May I go to my friends now?" Lucy asked, swinging her feet out of bed.

"Take this with you, and you're welcome to go where you will – as long as you keep your promise to your brother."

"I will," Lucy promised again, reaching to take the sandwich Lady Hadassah handed her for breakfast. She thanked her, ran out the door, and ate it on the way to the lamppost she vaguely remembered from last night. Parable and Squint were still there, Squint sleeping deeply, head and limbs inside his shell. Lucy sat down next to Parable as quietly as she could.

"Are you ok?" Lucy asked anxiously.

"We are, your Majesty. Thank you for asking. But I must ask the same – your skin is not supposed to be that color, if I remember correctly. Are you unharmed?"

"Not unharmed," Lucy admitted. "But these heal."

"You are sure?" Parable looked anxious, an expression Lucy hadn't seen on a turtle before. Her head wagged side to side in little, nervous motions, and her mouth stretched far back and down.

"Yes. Humans get bruised all the time," Lucy said confidently.

"I supposed it's because Aslan didn't give you shells," Parable sighed. "I am glad, your Majesty." She leaned her head against Lucy's side for a moment. "Though I still have to explain how this happened to my brother. He's not going to be pleased," Parable added dryly.

"Peter wasn't either. He went to Purpoise this morning," Lucy said. She winced. "I think we're in trouble."

"Both our brothers will probably think so. But head above water, your Majesty. We're both tired or harmed enough I don't think they'll do more than scold."

"Queen Lucy!" chirped a voice from the length of the house, and Lucy looked to see Dourfog, Robin, Hardsteel, and Henry approaching, Hardsteel trailing behind the others at his slow pace. "Good morning, good morning!" Robin called.

Dourfog approached and bowed low, Robin also flaring his wings in a bird's bow. Henry scampered to her leg and bowed too, gasping as he straightened and saw her face. Before he could say a word, Dourfog also saw the bruises.

"I knew it," he said dolefully. "Adventures always go wrong. Pirates came last night, I should think. I should have stayed. Marshwiggles don't bruise easily."

"No, no, no, I just had a fall last night," Lucy said quickly. She could see Henry looking like he was about to cry, and Squint's shell was rocking. "Adventures can be fun!"

"But avalanches aren't," said Squint's confused voice from inside his shell. He poked his head out.

"An avalanche. Of course. Brought the mountain down on the entire village, I should think. Buildings to be repaired. It will leave us open to pirates, more than likely."

"Maybe it will hit the pirates, hit the pirates! Splash, clunk, sunk!" Robin chirped, and Parable's head came up.

"Now that's an interesting idea," she said thoughtfully.

"What is?" Lucy asked.

"Nothing, Queen Lucy. At least, nothing yet. But I have some things to discuss with my brother. Something more interesting than our adventure last night," she added, laughter rippling her voice again, and Lucy smiled in relief. Whatever had happened, Parable had to be all right if she was laughing. And Lucy thought she herself would be all right soon.

She picked up Henry and set him on her lap, hugging him. "What adventures did you have this morning?" she asked.

"I went with Peridan to check the town's defenses. They're very interesting, Queen Lucy. They had a whole room with swords, taller than I am. There's walls to shoot arrows from above the path, and fire pits to pour boiling water on people coming up. I think I could fight the arrows, but I wouldn't like the water," the badger confided to her.

"Me either." She was not going to go near those; she didn't want to think about what Peter would say if she got another bruise from something like that. Speaking of which, she wanted to go find Peter. She'd promised Edmund she'd make sure he was ok, and she didn't think he was. "Have you seen Peter this morning?"

"He's with Purpoise the Turtle, your Majesty, on the cliff's edge. Both of them going to fall off, I should think, and even a turtle's shell would crack. Or they'll get pushed off by that angry lord, or trip over spare wood and rocks laying about. But maybe they won't. Maybe they'll last long enough to see pirates attack, and die that way."

Lucy suddenly laughed. She'd felt a little like Dourfog that morning – thinking about all the ways she could bruise herself – and she suddenly realized that wasn't how she wanted to spend the morning. "We'd better go stop them!" she said cheerfully, standing up and moving Henry to her shoulder.

"And say good morning, good morning!" Robin chirped. "Dourfog, Dourfog, let's go, let's go! To the cliff, cliff, cliff!" And the Marshwiggle's long strides led the way, Lucy patting Hardshell's back as a good morning as she passed him.

Peter _was_ talking with Purpoise, and looking much better, Lucy thought in relief. He'd changed into the clothing Edmund had sent with them, golden circlet crowning him and weapons buckled on his belt. He looked every inch a king – and Lucy's big brother, as he turned, smiled, and held his arm out. She ducked under it and leaned against him.

"All right this morning, Lu?" he asked.

"Much better than last night," she said, smiling up. "And Henry was telling me he's been visiting the island's defenses with Peridan, and Parable has something to tell Purpoise – oh, she's talking to him now – and Robin wanted to say good morning to you, and _I_ was checking to see if you're all right. You look better too. What were you doing?"

"Purpoise was telling me that queens must take their own risks, as a part of wearing a crown. And that I should do my best, but I won't be able to save you from everything," Peter said seriously.

"Aslan will," Lucy said, snuggling closer, and Peter's arm gently gripped her shoulder.

"Aslan will," he said softly. "Oh, good morn, Peridan," he said, looking up. "I hear you've been showing our cousin Henry around."

"It was my honor, King Peter," Peridan said, bowing with his hand on his sword. "It's incredible, really, to talk with Narnian Talking Animals again. I've heard about them all my life, but none of us really thought we'd be going back. My grandmother used to say I probably would – that sorrow lasted for a night, but joy would come again in the morning (1), and I was the dawning of the morning for her. It's a wonder to see."

"Wait till you meet Aslan, if He comes back some day," Lucy said from Peter's side. "It's incredible, Peridan, there's nothing like it. And Mr. and Mrs. Beaver, and Tumnus the Faun, and a Dryad – you should meet a Dryad! And the Naiads of Narnia's rivers, and the River God – Aslan made them all amazing." By the time she finished her list Peridan's smile was as wide as hers and as beaming.

"Then we'd better set sail soon! The ship will be ready in a day and a half, my King, my Queen. There are, from the decisions Lord Branther gathered report of, enough Exiles to sail it and more; and room enough for two-thirds of the Exiles, more if we squeeze."

Peter was opening his mouth to reply when a horn sounded; a loud, warning, building sound, a call and alarm, ringing shrilly through the cliffs. It sounded again, again, and again.

"Pirates! Four ships, oh Aslan, help us!" Peridan said, slapping his hand to his waist and turning in the same motion towards the path that came up.

"Where?" Peter's voice was sharp.

"The cove!" Peridan shouted over his shoulder, and Peter whirled to his sister.

"Lucy, find where the villagers hide for safety, and _get there_. Henry go with her; turtles, you can't fight on land, you too. Dourfog, Robin, with me!" He was running, running after Peridan, as soon as Lucy nodded. She turned towards the village, and felt a tug on her skirt. It was Purpoise.

"Young Queen, my sister has an idea, a dangerous one, but one that may help the village," he said. Lucy nodded rapidly, wishing with all her heart that the turtle could speak faster. "A turtle cannot do it, your Majesty. But a human could. Climb back up the mountain, in daylight, and throw enough rocks down the side of the mountain that another avalanche falls, onto the pirate ships themselves. They anchor by the cliff, out of reach of the arrows that cover the path."

Lucy thought, briefly, of her promise to Peter; of the bruises on her body from the mountain she'd have to climb again. "I'll try," she said bravely. She reached for Squint, but Purpoise stopped her.

"Do not wait for us, Young Queen!" She nodded, straightening back up. "Take care of Henry?" she said, giving a thought for the other Narnian.

"My word, Young Queen. Go." And she ran. Back towards the village, hearing above her panting breathes the scurry of feet and voices, the slamming of doors, the cries to Aslan, and the repeated cry of "Four! _Four ships!"_ She ran between the houses, searching the square, and seeing – no, not Hadassah, but there, there was Perelandra! She ran up to her; she needed her to keep her promise to Peter.

"Will you come help? It might be dangerous," she panted, and Perelandra looked about to object – but silenced.

"My Queen, as you command," she said, and Lucy's hand closed on the eighteen-year-old's. It felt safer. And she turned and ran for Jarrick's house.

There, getting closer, behind the hall. There, behind his house, to the path; up it, no longer running, letting go of Perelandra's hand. She was bent over, avoiding the rocks that now littered the path. Scrambling on them, lose stones, more bruises as she fell again and Perelandra picked her up, noises from Perelandra scrambling behind her, and her own, thundering heartbeat. Higher, higher, and the path was suddenly clear, above the avalanche that started yesterday. Up, and up, and further up. _UP_.

The path ended. Lucy put her hands on her knees, panting.

And in the sudden quiet she could hear screams of pain and shouts of war below. She lifted her head up, looking around; there, if she walked between that tree and the mountain, she could scoot towards the other side. She took a step and a hand caught her back.

"What are you doing?" hissed Perelandra, clutching at her.

"Starting an avalanche," Lucy said honestly. "On the other side."

Perelandra stared open-mouthed. "Aslan have mercy," she said. "That might work. They – the pirates – they're always down by the cliff face. We were going to put archers up here, but with the ships so far-"

"We're not archers!" Lucy said impatiently, tugging to make Perelandra let go.

"Me first, your Majesty," Perelandra said, suddenly firm. She drew Lucy behind her, and Lucy let her. Perelandra was too old for her to win a tug-of-war. But she was small enough to also fit behind the tree, feet braced against the roots, back sliding against the stone cliff. She reached one arm out and grabbed something hidden by the tree branches, and pulled herself out of sight; Lucy followed, as quickly as she could. She could still hear the sounds of battle. Perelandra had grabbed the next tree and pulled herself further around, and she was reaching back to catch Lucy, whose arms were too short. Perelandra swung her into her own body, and then turned towards the edge.

"If we go down a little, there's some stones – large ones – we can roll to start," she said. "I'm going to try lowering myself by using the tree roots."

"I'll hold your hands," Lucy said, eager to be of help. Perelandra shook her head.

"I'm not taking you with me if I fall, your Majesty. And I'm sorry, but your weight could never hold me. I can do this," and she took a deep breath. Lucy pouted. Perelandra knelt, grabbing the small, sturdy trunk with both arms, and sliding her feet off the back of it. She dropped, sliding, and Lucy lurched forward, but the teenager's slide stopped as her arms took her weight, and a few moments later the hands loosened their grip. Lucy peered over; Perelandra was braced on a small ledge, and was holding her hands up for Lucy. Lucy gulped, grabbed the tree trunk, and, with a prayer to Aslan, slid herself over. She stopped short of the ledge, but Perelandra braced her legs against the cliff, and Lucy let go, sliding down to stand. She looked down.

Very, very far down. The mountain reached out for a good length below them, a steep curve that turned into a cliff – and the curve was covered in stones. Perelandra was already edging towards a large one, and Lucy turned the other direction. There, near her, was a boulder almost as large as she was, balanced on the rocks beneath it. She tried shoving it and nearly shoved herself off the cliff. She threw herself forward and closed her eyes, breathing hard. She was scared to be up here, scared to be hurt, scared of falling – scared of everything. But Peter needed help, and the Exiles, and Dourfog and Robin. She looked over at Perelandra, and noticed the girl wasn't shoving the boulder.

She was digging out the small stones beneath it. And the boulder was rocking. Lucy quickly knelt, reaching for the small stones and scooping them downward, wiggling the ones bearing the boulder's weight. Wiggle, back and forth, back…and…forth…and…_out_. The boulder beside her rocked.

"Ready?" said a voice behind her, and she turned. Perelandra had a hand on her boulder and was waiting.

"Ready!" Lucy called, placing her own hand on the wobbling rock.

"One, two, _three!_" Perelandra counted, and both pushed. The boulders crashed down, hitting the rocks below them and rolling, disturbing all the small stones and some larger ones, rolling, rolling, picking up speed and hitting other rocks harder, and more and more joined the fall. Perelandra picked up Lucy, shoving her upwards, towards the tree, moving one hand from her waist to her foot, then the other, lifting her higher, and suddenly Lucy could reach. She pulled herself up till her waist was on the roots, and wiggled to get up higher, knowing Perelandra couldn't come up till she did; and all the while hearing the growing sound of rocks crashing, and falling. Perelandra's hands came up, and Lucy grabbed and arm and tugged, and together the girls huddled on the tree while the cliff started shaking; both sides beginning to rumble as one side began to give way. It grew louder, louder, and louder, then ceased, with only a few skidding pebbles bouncing the echoes.

"Did we do it?" Lucy asked cautiously.

"We can't see from here, your Majesty. We should go back and check," Perelandra said, her voice shaking slightly. "Here, let me get around you – sorry, I'm sorry, I know I'm crushing you – my foot there, and there, I've got the branch." A pause as she moved back to the other tree. "Here, let me help you," and Lucy gladly gave Perelandra her arm. Very shortly they were back on the path, a barely distinct, stone-strewn path.

"Over to this side, your Majesty, there's a lookout," and Perelandra was already leading the way, round towards the other side, and together they came upon a wooden platform, built between two trees, with rungs for a ladder nailed into one of the trunks. They climbed up, and Lucy, looking around, saw a horn hanging from a branch, and a hastily discarded blanket and book.

"That's the alarm call horn!" she said out loud, realizing it.

"That it is," Perelandra said, but she was on her hands and knees, peering over the edge. "Come look, Queen Lucy," she called without looking back. Lucy crawled to the edge and looked over.

Three ships were below them and to the left, and close to the three were a bunch of men swimming. Two of the ships were lower than the other, and Lucy realized that they were sinking lower still, and she could barely make out holes in the wood far below them. "We did it," she realized. She looked over at Perelandra. "We did it!"

"We did," Perelandra said, her tone exhausted, and she sank back, sitting against a tree trunk, next to the blanket. "Aslan be thanked, we did. Three of the four are sinking, and I think the other will leave." She looked at Lucy. "We might want to get back?" she said uncertainly. "Will your brother be looking for you?"

"Yes," said Lucy, but she looked at the ladder and really didn't want to climb back down it. Or the mountain. She'd run and then climbed and then started an avalanche, and maybe, just maybe, they had a little time? "Can we rest a bit first?" she asked. Perelandra nodded, and Lucy lay down. She wasn't going to sleep – she really wasn't – she was just going to rest a bit first…

She woke to a Robin chirping in her ear. "I found her, I found her, both are here!" She sat up, the blanket on the platform falling off her shoulders as she moved. Perelandra was curled up by the tree trunk, also asleep, and Dourfog's head was appearing over the side of the platform.

"Are you hurt, your Majesty?" he asked, and Lucy shook her head and held her arms out to him. She remembered him carrying her up the mountain; maybe he could carry her down?

"We were attacked, your Majesty." He looked at her and his eyes were sad. "Many are hurt, and we need your cordial in the village. Also, your royal brother is very worried."

"Oh, Dourfog," she said. She scrambled over to him, and heard Robin singing Perelandra awake behind her. The sun high in the sky; it must be past noon. "Can you help me down?"

"Yes, your Majesty," he said, and went back down the ladder. He held his long arms out to her and took her directly from the platform, cradling her.

"Is Peter ok?" she asked worriedly.

"Yes, your Majesty." She turned her face into his coat.

"But others aren't?"

"No, your Majesty. Chin up, though. They're in Aslan's hands, and if the worst happens, they'll be going home to His country. And that's more than anyone could ask for." Lucy turned and looked at him. Marshwiggles are very brave when the worst does happen, she thought.

"Thank you, Dourfog," she said, and dried her tears on her sleeve. Perelandra scrambled behind them, and Robin landed on Dourfog's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he sang softly, and Lucy tried her best to smile. Robin sang to her the rest of the way down, Narnian songs of Aslan, of comfort. By the time Dourfog set her down behind Jarrick's house, her own feet were moving her quickly towards the village, where people once again needed help.

OOOOO

A/N: So, yes…I decided that an avalanche would make a great defense weapon. Not a commonly used one, of course, because there wouldn't be a mountainside left, and directing it would be almost impossible, and highly dangerous. But it made the last chapter more necessary to the story and it was fun to picture, so I did it. Forgive me as I stretch the laws of reality just a bit. :)

(1) A Biblical quote I didn't remember the reference to, but Ibernstienmm and trustingHim17 kindly saved me the trouble; it's Psalm 30:5. Thank you both!


	19. Chapter 18 A Cordial and a Meeting

**Chapter XVIII: A Cordial and a Meeting**

Disclaimer: Someday I'd like to go and see the fireflowers that grow on the mountains of the sun, and find the berries the birds bring the stars, but I know of those things only because Lewis wrote them; none of this story is mine.

"Lucy!" Peter's voice was louder than all the others rising in the village square, in front of the hall. "Lucy!" Peter was running towards them, and Lucy moved, trying to get down. Dourfog barely had her on her feet before Peter was snatching her shoulders. "Where have you _been?_ Up the mountain trail - Lucy, you _promised!_" He was shaking her, face white.

"I went with Perelandra!" she said, starting to cry; Peter instantly stopped shaking her. "I fell asleep," she sobbed, and Peter brought her forward, holding her much more gently in a hug. "I kept my promise Peter, I did, I did."

"Where have you been?" he asked, not letting her go; but his voice was softer, no longer shouting. "You've been gone for hours, I thought the pirates had you! We were organising a rescue party!" His voice was rising; he cut it off, and Lucy felt his shoulders go up and down as he took a deep breath. "Where were you?" he asked quietly.

"Perelandra and I went up the mountain to start an avalanche." She felt him freeze; not even his chest moved with his breathing. "We got so tired, Peter, and we went to go see if it worked, and we fell asleep."

"Perelandra!" It was another voice, rising as loud as Peter's had been, and Lucy turned towards it, Peter's one arm falling away but the other staying on her shoulders. "Perelandra, _where have you been?_" Lord Peredus and Peridan both were running towards the battered girl, each seizing one of her hands, and yelling questions at her from both sides, loud enough to be heard across the square. She flinched - her hands were probably as bruised as Lucy's - and their voices quieted.

"I'm sorry, Lu," said Peter from beside her. "I guess I acted just like them; we were just worried. Forgive me?" Lucy nodded, reaching to hug him around his waist again.

"I just wanted to help, Peter," she said into his waist.

"I know, Lu. Just let me get used to it?"

Lucy squeezed him one more time, and he sighed, tension releasing. "Lu, we need your help." She shook herself; of course, Dourfog said there were others who were hurt. He took her hand and started walking towards the second-largest building, opposite the stone Hall of Lords. "This is where their healers work, but a few of them need your cordial." Peter paused and turned to face Lucy. "I only want you to use it on the ones with wounds that might prove deadly," he said seriously, looking right into her face, and Lucy nodded. "That bottle's not big, and we need to save what we can. Have the healers help you if you need to figure out which ones to heal." Lucy nodded again and hurriedly turned towards the wooden door. "Do you want me to come with you?" Peter called after her.

"I'm fine!" Her fingers were already on the knob, pushing it open.

The room inside was one large one, with low mats laid on beds of smooth stones, all lining the long hall. Hadassah was just across from the door, giving instructions to three other women working there; to Lucy's left a boy a few years older than her was running to another bed, bandages in his hand, giving them to Lord Brintold to wrap around Lord Timoth's wrist. "A small cut," Lucy heard someone say, mixing with "Do you need some water?" "Tell me where it hurts," "We need to stop the bleeding!," most in quiet tones, but not that last one. Lucy walked with purpose towards that bed, where two healers were bending over Lord Branther, unconscious on a bed half-way down the hall.. Lucy gulped; he had three sword wounds, one in his shoulder, one in his side, and one on his leg; blood was running down the side of his face from something in his hair. Both healers were at his waist, hands in the wound. She took out her cordial and stood by his head.

"Move back," she told the healers; she didn't think their hands should be inside the wound when it healed.

"Be quiet, little girl," one of them said sharply, neither glancing her way.

"I can help him with something Aslan gave me," Lucy said solemnly, taking off the cap; the smell of the cordial overpowered the blood and herbs, and both healers paused, looking at her. She dropped a single drop between his lips, tilting the bottle back up immediately, and watched as he took an easy breath in.

"By the Lion's mane," breathed one healer, staring down at the wound; the worried one glanced down quickly.

"That's impossible."

Lucy smiled, joyful in the gift she'd been given.

The next moment Lord Branther erupted from the bed, standing on his feet, shoving Lucy and the healer on that side behind him protectively, and pawing his waist wildly for his sword. He crouched, staring around with the defensiveness of a warrior. The rest of the hall silenced.

Lucy, looking at his back, giggled. He was just like Peter.

"Where-" he said hoarsely, and then he suddenly stilled. Lucy, walking around his back so she could see him, saw him staring down at his waist in amazement. She patted his arm.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," she said politely. She looked at the other beds; two down was a man with two nurses as well. She climbed quickly over the bed - there were people in the aisle still staring at her - and leaned over his head. Once again she tilted the bottle; once again a drop of liquid spilled out; once again the man beneath her breathed and opened his eyes, the healers drawing back. He sat up on his elbows, looking around. "What?" he asked, bewildered.

Lucy smiled up at him; he was still taller than her. "You're all better," she told him.

"Queen Lucy," said a quiet voice behind her; she turned, it was Hadassah. "What is that, your Majesty?"

"Father Christmas gave it to me, it's cordial," she said cheerfully. "But Peter said only to use it on people who had bad wounds, because it's small." Everyone was still looking at her. "Is it ok to use it?" she asked in an unsteady voice. In Narnia people had _wanted_ to be healed.

"Of course, Queen Lucy," Hadassah said, hastily moving forward to take her arm. "Please come this way, there's someone who needs it badly." Hadassah led her to a bed across the hall, then on to the next, and the next.

Four more Exiles needed the cordial; each time, the entire hall watched intently as Lucy poured a drop into each wounded warrior's mouth. Smiles grew larger and larger, and soon there was laughing, and Lucy got a hug from each healer she passed. She patted each person on their shoulder, like she saw the healers doing, and once she put her cordial away Lady Hadassah assigned a healer to show her how to help the rest, at Lucy's request. There were sixteen other patients, none with serious wounds. Lucy was just finishing wrapping herbs onto a shallow slice in a forearm when a man stuck his head in through the door. "To the hall! To the hall! All who can be spared!" He vanished a moment later, and two hands took binding from Lucy's hands.

"You'd better go, your Majesty," said the healer behind her. "You'll be needed." Lucy thanked her, and ran with light steps out the door, across the square, and into the Hall of Lords. She looked around, trying to see Pter.

She wasn't tall enough to find him, but Dourfog was tall enough even she could see him, and she ran over. Peter was beside him, Henry on his shoulder, and Robin flitted down to land on Lucy's. "Greetings, greetings, your Majesty! You are well? You are well?"

"Yes, Robin, everyone is well!" she said happily, stroking him with one hand while her other grabbed Peter's. "Peter, what's going on?"

"Lord Brintold called a meeting," Peter said. "I do not know what about; something happened in this last attack that worried him." He was watching the table, but his hand squeezed Lucy's. "I'm glad you're here, Lucy," he murmured.

Lord Jarrick approached the table and walked around it, drying his hands on his shirt as he sat. Six lords were there now, and Lord Brintold stood, the conversations dying away. Lord Brintold looked weary, the weariness Lucy had seen in some of the Narnians' eyes as they thought of defeat under the White Witch. "Lord Branther is wounded badly, and we begin with six. The table recognises Hareth, son of Branther-" he broke off.

Lord Branther was walking towards the table.

"Father," Lucy heard a whisper, "Father!" and it was a cry, and then Hareth was pushing forward, running, grabbing his father by the arms. "Your shoulder, your _side_-" and he frantically touched the clean clothing his father wore, lightly pressing where Lord Branther had been wounded.

Lord Branther swept his son into a brief hug, then pushed him away. He turned from the table to the crowd. "Aslan gave our King and Queen great gifts," he said in a voice that carried. He bowed to Peter and Lucy. "Not an hour past, Queen Lucy went to the house with the wounded and healed all those with dangerous wounds with a cordial she was given from Father Christmas." There was a tug at the corner of his mouth; Lucy was close enough to see. "There is no need to recognize my son yet, Brayton," he said to Lord Brintold. "I'm perfectly well." He walked around the table and sat.

Lord Brintold cleared his throat. He opened his mouth, closed it, shook his head, and sat.

Lord Branther stood. "Four ships," he said quietly. "Never, in our history, have the pirates launched such a large attack. That was a third of their fleet. And most of it sunk, because of an idea of this queen." He paused. "I do not find it a mere coincidence that just when we're offered a new home, our old becomes far more dangerous. From the words I exchanged with a pirate while fighting, the pirates envy the defensible position of this village, and they will have it. We need to leave." He sat, straight-backed against his chair.

"It's still _our home_," Lord Miltrel began angrily, but Lord Brintold was rising.

"There is a point I wish to make," he said quietly. "I ask all the Exiles to sit." All the hall settled onto the floor, except the group of Narnians and Lord Brintold. Lucy, looking around, realised she was actually tall enough to see everyone now. She stood quietly by Peter, still holding her big brother's hand. "Now," Lord Brintold said, "I ask all the Lords who are certain they are leaving for Narnia to stand." He himself stayed standing; Lord Jarrick, Lord Branther, and Lord Peredus all stood. "Let the Exiles who know they wish to leave stay seated; let those who wish to remain stand." Less than a fourth of the hall got to their feet, and they looked around uneasily. "Before the pirate attack I had said to let each choose as Aslan led them," Lord Brintold said in even, measured tones. "But things have changed. There are clear signs the village could never be held against the pirates; to stay is to die. We must _all_ leave for Narnia's shores."

"All of us?" It was Lord Rodger, in tones of wonder; the other lords turned to look at him. "I may go as well? I can see Narnia?" Lord Brintold smiled, and began to respond.

"I _will. Not. Leave!_" Lord Miltrel was shouting, flinging back his chair and glaring at Lord Brintold. "This is our home. It's _ours_. I don't care if we fight till the last Exile dies, but we won't give it up! What do they offer, this king and queen? A story, a legend, too good to be true. A sail across the sea to the land our ancestors left, filled with ice. We're _free_, and we have what's _ours_. What they offer can't be more than a lie!"

"Is it yours?" Lord Brintold responded, holding his ground, and his tone. "Is it yours, or is it Aslan's?" Lord Miltrel stopped. "If it is Aslan's, is it His right to ask you to give it up?"

"Their King fought for us," Lord Peredus said, coming to stand by Lord Brintold. "With Aslan's own fury against our enemies. There were only five wounded to the point they may have been lost, against four pirate ships. You think he would fight like that and lie?"

"Their Queen healed those five, including my own nephew," Lord Jarrick added, also standing. "Till there's no mark on their skin; I washed off the blood myself. Do you really think Jadis could offer healing like that?"

Lord Miltrel glared at them, but had no reply.

"But Aslan gives good things," Lucy protested. She stepped forward; she didn't like the fighting, but this was about _Aslan_. "Why would we be lying about good things if Aslan gave them to us?" She looked at Lord Miltrel curiously. "Don't you believe in Aslan?"

Lord Miltrel hesitated; then his face hardened. "He takes them away, too," he growled. "He took away Narnia; and now He wants to take away _this_."

"He is giving Narnia back," Lord Brintold said. "If you stay you condemn your wife, your daughter, your newborn grandchild to the mercy of pirates. Would you not rather have the mercy of Aslan?"

"And if you stay," Peter's voice cut through the hall, "are you not as greedy for this land as the pirates themselves?" He stepped forward, walking right to the table. "You would keep this land at the cost of lives; they take it at the same cost. Do not let greed, or fear, keep you from obedience."

"You know nothing of either," Lord Miltrel said coldly.

"My sister was missing for _hours_ after this last attack," Peter said. "My brother fought with me in the Battle of Beruna where the witch died; he shattered her wand, and before the battle was over he was stabbed so badly he almost died. Only Lucy's cordial healed him. Yes, my lord, I know of both fear and obedience. And I cannot, as king, let it keep me from letting my brother and sisters face evil again."

"I – I think we should leave." It was a timid voice, stuttering, but the youngest lord, Timoth, continued as the others looked at him. "I mean, Miltrel, they really do want our home. If - if we left, it'd be over. And Rodger wants to go, and so do I, and you'd be the only one left."

"Even you can't think that's enough," Lord Peredus said softly, so softly Lucy almost didn't hear him. Lord Miltrel hesitated, then sat down, frowning. "Are there any others who wish to remain?" he asked of the hall. The Exiles who were standing sat, all of them but one brown-haired, middle-aged woman. She looked at Lord Miltrel, who nodded to her, and she sat as well. "Good," he said, and the hall breathed a sigh of relief. "Jarrick, when will the ships be ready?"

"The day after next," he responded. "If we're taking all of us, though, it'll need to be light loads for each family."

"Good. There is another thing that needs to be done," Lord Brintold said to the hall. "After you have packed, each of you, the morning we leave, must destroy your home. Leave no stone on top of another; scatter them around the open areas." A murmur of protests rose; he raised his voice. "We are leaving and not coming back. I will not have a place for us to look back to, to long for. And more, if we leave it, the pirates will use them. And I will not leave a habitable place for them to use." The protests died away.

"A good thought, Lord Brintold. I would add one more to it; how far is it from here to the city of Galma?"

"They are over two mountains to the North, my King."

"They need to be sent word of our leaving (1)," Peter said. He turned to Robin on Lucy's shoulder. "Can you bring them word, good cousin, and be back again before the ship leaves?"

"A day, a day, it would take a day!" Robin chirped. "What should I say, should I say?"

Peter's forehead creased; Lucy thought he was probably recalling his lessons. "That Narnia is free; that we wish to regain relations with their, and that the Exiles are leaving to return to their home," he said carefully.

"It is good to have winged messengers," Lord Brintold said in amusement. He turned to his fellow lords. "Any further matters?" Silence; he turned to the crowds. "Questions?" None; he bowed, and said, "The council is dismissed."

Dourfog was watching the lords; as Lucy walked, he murmured to her, "Lord Miltrel might make a good marshwiggle. I think he should oversee our portion of Narnia, your Majesty."

"Well _we_ wouldn't want him," Henry the Badger said, sniffing contemptuously.

"He is still a Narnian Lord and deserving of the respect," Peter rebuked, but his mouth was twitching. "I rather like your idea, Dourfog. But I don't know where his inheritance is. I shall have to see what Edmund and Susan say, but I will keep it in mind."

Lucy was laughing - she did rather think Lord Miltrel's sharp voice would be approved of by the Marshwiggles, but she hoped he liked them too. Maybe they'd be good friends! She turned, and found Lord Branther was watching her. She cocked her head at him – mirroring Robin on her shoulder, though she didn't know it - and he came over. "I offer my thanks, Queen Lucy," he said. She was confused – for what? – and he elaborated, "for my return to health. Aslan has given you great gifts indeed."

"He always gives good gifts!" she responded. Behind Lord Branther were Hadassah and Hareth, and other Exiles she had not met yet - relations of the other four, she found out. All came to thank her; and the Exiles around them listened till she'd acknowledged all of them, and moved out of the hall.

"Just a drop, it took," she heard the tones in amazement, while, "He's got a sword made for him, he does, and orders as calmly on the battlefield as in the Hall, but when he fights, _look out!_" Peter looked down at her smiling. "They talk about us as much as the Narnians do," he said to her in an undertone.

"That's 'cause they're ours too," Lucy said, taking his hand. "And now they're _all_ coming with us." A day and a half till they sailed, she thought, and a day and a half at sea, and then she would be home again. She couldn't wait.

OOOOO

(1) The idea of notifying Galma and Robin being the messenger belong to Ibernsteinnm, who has been an incredible sounding board for the rest of this story.

A/N: I realised that between an appointment on Tuesday night and a writing group after, I would not have time to write my normal post, so I'm doing it two days early. However, that does mean my next post won't be till Friday or Saturday. I'm sorry. :(  
A/Nx2: If I could ask for feedback, _should_ Lord Miltrel be over the Marshwiggles, or is that a disaster waiting to happen?


	20. Chapter 19 A Distant Threat

**Chapter Almost-Twenty: The Departure**

Disclaimer: So obvious I'm not saying it. You already know it.

That day and a half went quickly, Lucy discovered. Robin left at the first grey light that came over the sea. Lucy, Peter, and Dourfog saw him off, Lucy wishing him a swift flight and sure wind (Robin had taught her that), and Peter sending Aslan's blessing on his errand. Dourfog muttered, "Probably won't come back," but lifted his arm willingly enough to send Robin into flight. Lucy went back inside to help Hadassah pack.

She didn't really help with that; she found her services much more in need as a messenger, trotting back and forth and back and forth through the small square and inbetween the houses, with messages about which seedlings to take and which to leave, and returning this cloth, or asking for that pan - she hadn't realised how very _neighborly_ the village had been till she handed back a scrubbing sponge someone had borrowed. Or perhaps it was just Hadassah.

Half the village had finished after lunch was served (Lucy collapsed against Peter during the meal, and he must have said something to Hadassah, for Lucy found she was carefully watched afterwards). Again and again, the wooden lift took a load of belongings down the cliff; by dinner, they gathered in the great hall together, and ate there together for the last time. The four turtles, who had supervised the stacking of belongings at the bottom of the cliff (they were experts on small spaces, after all, and ones as large as a sea), came back up, and Peter spoke with them briefly about them escorting the ship back to Narnia, thanking them when they agreed. Lucy and Peter sat at their own table, and throughout the meal found themselves answering many questions about Narnia, the spring they celebrated together, the music they had heard from the fauns (Peter hummed a tune, and many of the older Exiles added their wordless voices), or a dance (Lucy sprang up to show them the steps, forgetting the spoonful of soup in her hand, and many of the new Narnians laughed with their merry, sputtering child-queen). Robin arrived midfeast, sailing in through the door, landing on the opposite edge of their table and bowing.

"Your greetings are returned, and congratulations given. An ambassador will arrive from Galma in late summer, my King and Queen." He paused, the careful, slow, formal tone dropping. "May I have some food, some food? My head's not meant to hold those unsingable, unsingable words!" and many eager hands reached out to give him bread crumbs. Henry, with Peter's encouragement, had been running about through the hall, and more and more of the Exiles found a chance to speak with the Talking Animal. Each who did left with a smile, Lucy thought, watching. (She was tired again.) It was a good idea of Peter's, really. Who could resist a Narnian? (She scooted her chair against Peter's, so she could lean on him.) She was glad the turtles had brought them. She should remember to thank...

She woke the next morning to a sound that made her bolt upright, scrambling to run, the heavy _thud-thud-thud_ of rocks falling. But she was inside, with walls! She turned, running through the door to trip over something waist-high and fall.

"Young Queen," said a slow, deep voice, and Lucy looked over at Purpoise.

"Is there an avalanche?" she panted, rubbing her knee.

"No, young Queen," said that same slow voice, and she breathed easier. "They are knocking down the sturdy walls with hammers. It is louder than when the sea decides to shift itself, and the floor grinds." He paused. "It is a good thing. But there are times we may not like a good thing, Young Queen. This is one."

"I agree," Lucy said ruefully. "It scared me."

"Be at peace, young Queen. It will not chase you down the mountain." He was smiling, that lovely, long-growing smile again. "Parable was pleased you saved Squint. And pleased you used her idea well. There is no shame in the first flinch of fear; but steel yourself, young one, after that." She offered him a smile; the fear already fading. "Aslan has given you valiant heart."

"And good counsellors," she said, bending across her legs to hug him. "I'd better go help!" She scrambled up and ran straight into Hadassah through the next door. Hadassah, however, had hands to catch her.

"Your Majesty, I was just coming to wake you. Be pleased to sit and have breakfast, if you will?" Lucy looked out the door.

"But they're working-"

"And they've eaten. You fell asleep at the table last night, your Majesty, and your brother carried you to bed. I should have watched you better."

Lucy scowled. "You sound like Susan," she informed Hadassah.

"Susan?"

"Queen Susan, and the mothering one of Narnia's sovereigns," said a rippling voice, and Lucy looked over to see Parable in the door to the outside. "Or so Purpoise has said. Good morning, Queen Lucy."

"Good morning!" Lucy said, smiling again. Hadassah put some eggs mixed with fish pieces in front of her, and Lucy quickly grabbed her fork. Parable and Purpoise kept her company, Hardshell and Squint eventually joining them (Squint tried the fish and said it tasted better wet), all four avoiding the crashing stone outside. Lucy could see it made them uncomfortable.

"Do you want to go down to the beach?" she asked the four of them. They shook their heads. "We were there through the night, helping to guard the former Exiles' belongings," Hardshell said. "There are pirates staying close." Lucy looked at him, surprised. "We scouted the waters at your brother's request."

"Thank you," Lucy said.

"Thank you indeed," said Hadassah, pausing in her work. "You - forgive my asking, but you are not Narnians. Why is our return so important to you, that you would lay aside your lives to help us so much?"

There was a pause. "When a good thing is destroyed, all should mourn," Purpoise said at last. "Though we are of the sea, and Narnians of the land, all are Aslan's. We work to restore what He loves." Hadassah curtsied, looking thoughtful.

Lucy, finished with her breakfast, cleared her plate and helped Hadassah wash it. It went into a small bundle, the last of their things. "Now, outside, your Majesty," she said, smiling. Her smile faded. "Our house will not fall as well, so we are burning it," she said, and this time, her smile was sad enough to make Lucy hesitate. She went outside more slowly; Lord Jarrick was stacking brush and logs around the house. His wife came out, the bundle in her hand, and took down the lantern from beside the door, setting it and the bundle on the ground. She knelt beside them to light a torch, striking flint and tinder, the sounds lost in the louder thuds of falling stone and hammers. When it lit she rose, waiting till her husband finished, then handing it to him.

He took it, hesitated, and looked at his wife. "I don't know what to say," he admitted to her. "But I feel our home should have something."

"Say thank you, and that we are going home," she said, and he looked at the house.

"To Aslan be the praise, for the home that sheltered us, and may He guide us, as we leave it for our new home," he said, and walked forward to touch the torch to the eaves. Hadassah came back to stand by Lucy.

"It is fitting," she said quietly. "The night before his grandparents left, they were burned out of their home. It was said that the very stars themselves rescued them, bringing them near the shore to begin a new life (1)." She paused. "Now our home burns as we leave for the shores they came from."

"I'm sorry," said Lucy. She took Hadassah's hand, and the woman looked down in surprise. "I'm sorry you lost you home."

The long healer's fingers closed gently over hers. "It is Aslan's time," she said. She hesitated, squeezed Lucy's hand, and then let it go, bending to pick up the lantern and bundle. Lucy thought her eyes were shining, the way someone's did when they were trying not to cry. She stayed close.

But by the time Jarrick had finished lighting all four corners of the house, Hadassah's eyes were clear. He took the bundle in one hand, and held out his other arm to her.

"King Peter said he'd help wield the hammers this morning," Jarrick said to Lucy, pausing on his way to the wooden platform. "He also muttered something about wishing Orieus was here to help." Lord Jarrick's eyes twinkled, lightening a little of the sadness of his face. "Who is Orieus, your Majesty?"

"Our Centaur general," Lucy said. "Did Peter want me to come help?"

"He said you're a mite small for that, Queen Lucy. He thought you could come with us and help load the ship." Jarrick's smile lightened his whole face. "Have you seen it yet?" he asked eagerly. Lucy shook her head, reaching again for Hadassah's hand. "Three generations, we've worked at it. My grandfather's hands were badly burned, when he arrived. But he said the bones of a ship, the beams and such, didn't need detail work, and he began it. His son learned to work wood on that ship. He made his own, little ones, and taught all his friends to sail. That first winter we needed that skill, my father said. He and his friends knew the coves around Galma like they knew the streets of our village. The fishermen of Galma liked them, and taught them how to catch the fish during the wintertime, and so our village has survived ever since. My father taught me woodworking on the same ship, fitting boards to the deck and nailing them in place, smoothing them of splinters, and treating them against the water." He paused at the edge of the cliff. "Look there."

Lucy looked, and her eyes went wide. The ship, anchored off to sea, was twice the size of the Hall of Lords, towering even from a distance. Six or seven small boats were beached, or rowing on the sea, and Lucy watched with interest as she got on the wooden platform and it creaked its way down the cliff-face, swaying slightly in the wind. Hadassah held her hand firmly and kept her in the middle.

She saw the piles of belongings, still guarded by a few of the Exiles with swords or bows, leaning against the cliff. A bustle of activity ran between the piles and the beached boats, carrying loads; as Lucy watched men pushed on of the boats off the sand, running with it into the water, and leaping in when it picked up speed. They settled to their oars and rowed away.

It was easy, on the beach, to settle into helping. And the Exiles really reminded her of Narnians now; the cheerful "Good morning!," the willingness to share the work, the easy way they took loads from her they thought were too heavy. Hadassah sent her off with an injunction "Not to run, please, your Majesty, you'll tire yourself out," and then she and Lord Jarrick went to the ship to oversea the loading.

The rest of the morning passed quickly. More loads came down, adding to the pile; the thudding from the top grew softer and ceased. The pile itself, even with the additions, shrank with the help of nine boats. Lucy got to know their crews, mainly humans in their twenties, or their grandfathers. Peridan and Perelandra ran one boat themselves, and she smiled - they worked together like Susan and Peter did.

Speaking of Peter - she looked to the lift, and he was on it, riding it down. She ran over as it landed with the soft _thump_ in the sand, and offered him a glass of water from the bucket nearby. He looked tired.

"Thanks," he said shortly. He leaned back against the cliff. "It's all done up there," he said. "The entire village is uneven mounds of stones with no walkways. Hopefully the pirates will be too lazy to spend hard effort clearing it and using it as a base." He took another drink. "They'll destroy the lift and what they can of the pathway as well; there's lots of stones to use." He grinned conspiratorially at Lucy. "How goes it down here?" as he glanced around.

"Oh Peter, we've done lots. We think we'll have it loaded in another hour." She leaned a little closer. "It's just like working with Narnians," she whispered. "They're already watching out for us." He laughed and drew her closer.

"Good. You _need_ watching. We'll have them well-trained to keep an eye on Ed and Su-" he broke off, watching the sea. Lucy looked too; Hardshell was crawling up the beach, Squint pulling himself forward as fast as he could beside him. Peter looked over the cove, caught Lord Branther's attention, and nodded towards the turtles. "Come on Lu," he said. "I sent them to scout."

The two Narnian royals met the Lord halfway to the turtles, their pace much faster than the reptiles'. On reaching them, Lucy plopped down in the sand, reaching out for Squint.

"We found them!" he squeaked excitedly. "Lots and lots of them! And we had to go _deep_ to make sure they didn't see us! It was deeper than I've been before! I can't wait to tell Parable!"

"Found whom?" Lord Branther said, impatient.

"The pirates!" Squint said, his voice rising. "_ALL THE PIRATES_!" The people closest to them turned, and Lucy hastily shushed him, her gentle hand gripping around his head.

"Hardshell?" Peter asked.

"Nine pirate ships, waiting nine-hundred lengths off the coast," Hardshell said. "Waiting to take the ship or the cove?" He looked at Peter

"I don't know." Peter's hand was gripping his hilt. "Lord Branther, you know them better. Any insight?"

"We're leaving them nothing of value in the cove," he replied grimly. "I would say the ships, your Majesty."

"Nine to one." (2) His fingers went white around the sword.

"I do not know how equipped the ship is for battle," Lord Branther said. "Permission to go aboard and confer with Lord Jarrick?" Peter nodded, and Lord Branther bowed swiftly and was gone, striding towards a departing boat and swinging himself aboard with the startled crew.

"Nine," Peter murmured to himself. Lucy stood and rested her hand on the one around his sword.

"I have my dagger," she told him, hoping to make it a little better. Peter looked a little worse, face blanching.

"I'm afraid that's not enough to win, Lu." He tried to smile. "But thanks."

"Aslan can win," she told him confidently.

"And you're _going_ to win," said an adoring voice at their feet. "And we'll help! It will be my first battle fighting pirates!" Squint had pushed himself so far up he fell on his back, flippers waving. "Fighting with my siblings isn't nearly as exciting."

"Battles are not for children, Squint," Peter said gently.

"But I'll be safe under the water!"

"We'd all be safe if the _pirates_ were under the water," Peter grumbled. Lucy didn't know what to say. He began to pace, from the place where Lucy stood to the water and back again. His footsteps, clear on the first few trips, began to overlap, breaking into half footsteps, his own path separate from the ones heading to the boats. Lucy, watching, bit her lip. She wished Edmund or Susan were here to help him.

But on his next trip he paused. She looked up at him expectantly; and he noticed. "I'm remembering a story from that other place," he said. "But the ship is too big – or they're too small. And it's all wood, not metal. Bother this! I need to talk to Lord Jarrick as well."

This, Lucy could help with. She ran and grabbed his wrist, tugging him to the boats. "Come on," she said. "Peridan!" she called. "Can Peter go with you?"

"Of course, his Majesty is welcome!" he called back, and Peter started running with Lucy, towards the small boat. "Stay here?" he asked her quickly. "I'd like to have everything ready to go as soon as possible." She nodded – though she knew that waiting wasn't the easy part. Peter waved, as the boat left, and she turned back to her task. It wasn't nearly as fun now.

"Can I help?" said a voice beside her, and she felt Squint edging against her foot. Looking at his path through the sand, she smiled again – he'd rolled. Speedy little turtle.

"Of course!" she said cheerfully, scooping him up. "We need all the help we can get." Because moving is only a small part of this, she thought. Aslan - show us what to do about leaving, and about nine pirate ships. Please.

The other lords came down as well, the lift bringing load after load, Lord Timoth glancing around anxiously, eager to leave, a strong contrast to the folded arms and foreboding frown of Lord Miltrel. Lord Roger and Lord Peredus came down last, using the path, having rolled stones to block a large portion of the top. They arrived just in time to eat.

By the time lunch was served – sandwiches that wise wives had made ahead of time, and fruit that wouldn't last the voyage – the cove was clear of everything but the food baskets and the people. One boat took food to the ship; the other eight rested on the shore, ready to begin the exodus after lunch.

OOOOO

A/N: Any guesses on Peter's idea?

(1) Jarrick's grandparents' tale is told in my other story, "The Prophecy of Thrones."  
(2) Yes, I was tempted to put "Numbers do not win a battle" here. No, I didn't; it seemed a bit too repetitive. But hopefully it amuses you that it crossed at the forefront of my mind.


	21. Chapter 20 The Cave

Chapter Two-Ten: The Departure

A/N: After the last chapter, this story has the most reviews of anything I've written. I cannot thank you enough. There are times I've had to keep myself from clapping my hands (since it would look very strange as an adult in public) when I see I've been given a review, and to have this many on a story is a wonderful thing. Thank you to everyone who reviewed!

A/Nx2: I need another suspension of disbelief for this chapter, please, good readers. I think it would work - but since I don't have talking, or even trained turtles, it remains a theory.

OOOOO

Peter came back before lunch was over, in a ship full of well-muscled men. Lord Jarrick was with him; they got out, but didn't come to greet the rest of the future Travelers. Instead they headed into the water to the other eight boats, Lord Jarrick reaching for the edge of one and leaning his full weight on it. On the other side one of the men did as well, and the group started frowning. Lucy watched, curious, and saw a few round lumps surface near their feet, and when Peter bent down to one, she realised they were the turtles. She got up and walked over, reaching the edge of the sand as Lord Jarrick sighed and said,

"It's a good thought, your Majesty, but they'd be too heavy. They'd sink the boats afore they'd float."

"But the point being to rip a hole in the side, they wouldn't have to be as he remembered them," another man argued, waving his tanned hand at Peter. "Just make a hole big enough it can't be patched."

"Less metal," a third, fair-haired man agreed. "That would mean less weight."

"Still light enough for them to push, though?" the second man said.

"I don't know, ask the blamed turtles that," the third man shot back. "They talk, remember?"

"Purpoise, how heavy could these be and still be light enough for you to push fast enough to break the hull of a ship?" Peter asked. Purpoise, floating a handslength away from the king, looked from the boat back to Peter's face.

"It would take five of us to push it that fast, High King, if it were filled with people."

"And there are three of you," Peter said. "And it would have to be you, if we rowed the boats the rowers wouldn't make it - wounded and helpless, or dead (1)."

"There are not three of us, High King," Purpoise said in his slow, grave way.

"Four of you, but I don't think Squint could help," Peter said, still not paying that much attention. "You're sure we couldn't equip the ship, Lord Jarrick?"

"There are not four of us," Purpoise said.

Peter looked down and blinked. "How many are there?" he asked.

"Around two hundred, High King."

Peter blinked. He opened his mouth, closed it, and looked at Lord Jarrick, who was looking back at him with an eyebrow raised. Lucy giggled, and Peter collected himself. "Two hundred, Purpoise?"

"Yes, High King. We migrate through the ocean." Peter opened his mouth, but Purpoise continued, "But they came here first. They wish to bear witness to the Exiles returning home." Purpoise paused. "Over half are newly born, High King. They should not be brought near pirate ships."

"No, certainly not," Peter murmured. "Purpoise - would any of the older turtles be interested in helping?"

"Yes, High King. Our numbers were over seven hundred before the winter began. But pirates found us more amusing to catch than regular turtles. Many of us died on those ships. We do not forget what they have done, or their ancestors have done, or what they are doing now. If you fit iron to these boats, we will push them into the hulls of the pirate ships."

There was a pause.

"Well, we've got a working plan," Lord Jarrick said, clapping a hand to Peter's shoulder. "We've got the iron left over in the ship-builders cave. We can fit it soon, I think. We needn't cover the whole boat, just one end."

"It won't be balanced enough to float that way," the fair-haired man argued.

"On either end, then, or just dump scraps on the other side," the second man said impatiently. "And it would just have to be enough to pierce - we actually don't want the boat to hold together once it's in the hole, or the hole will be plugged. It'd be better if it splintered."

"Drive holes into the boats and plug them with cloth and ropes," Jarrick said thoughtfully. "If the ropes dragged underwater, the turtles could pull the plugs out. If the boats didn't break apart on impact, they'd sink, and bring water in with them."

"And so we could," Purpoise agreed.

"Right," said Jarrick. "Let's get to work, lads!"

"I think we should probably put the passengers on board the ship first," Peter said quickly. Lucy smiled; his mouth was quirking, in the way that meant he was laughing inside. It was good, good, good to see him laugh instead of worried.

Jarrick looked over at Lucy, and beyond. "Right you are," he said. "It appears I got carried away. A trait from my grandmother, I've been told." He raised his voice, and Lucy turned to find a crowd behind her.

"We've got nine boats, and nine pirate ships just out to sea," he said loudly. "The High King, Lord Branther, and myself came up with a plan, with the help of our good turtles. But we need these nine boats, so we've got to get you lot into the ship. Pack up, line up, and make ready to go!" He looked to the group he brought with him. "Sailors, to the boats! Let's get them loaded!"

The crowd murmured and shifted; Lucy ran to Peter, wanting to sail with him. She hadn't seen him all morning, and she was going to fix that now. She splashed happily into the water and stopped short. He was bending over, talking to Purpoise again. She carefully walked to stand beside him, not wanting to splash the turtle.

"Let me know tonight," Peter said quietly. "I'll be by the edge." He straightened, and Purpoise bobbed up and down on the water as he bowed.

"I will come tonight, High King, Young Queen." He turned and swam away, disappearing in a few moments.

"He's fast in the water," Lucy chimed, watching him.

"And that's an Aslan-sent blessing," Peter sighed. He took her hand and walked to the edge of the shore, heading for one of the lines.

"Your Majesties," was murmured from every side, the crowd parting to let them through. Peter went to the back of the line, walking his slow, tired walk. The line parted in front of the siblings and he looked up, surprised.

"I think they're saying we can go first," Lucy laughed. "We're fine!" she called to the people ahead of them.

"Truly, I don't mind waiting with my sister," Peter said, beginning to smile. He waved at the line, and it slowly closed in front of them. He looked down at her. "Did you have a good morning?"

"I had a good lunch," Lucy said. "And parts of moving things was fun - watching that pile get smaller, until it was my size. But you're tired, Peter," she said. She wished they were against the cliff so he could lean against it again.

"It's all right, Lu," he said tiredly. "I just wasn't expecting a battle right after hours hammering stones." He smiled ruefully. "I wish Ed were here. He'd handle the battle and I'd take tumbling down the stones."

"Just till he caught how tired you were," Lucy chided. "He'd stop you as soon as Su would."

Peter laughed, taking a step forward as the line moved up. "I suppose he would. It has been nice to get out from Su's mothering, a bit. But I miss it now."

Lucy thought. "Hadassah is a good mother," she suggested. "You could ask her."

Peter laughed again. "It's a good idea, Lu, but it might be a bit awkward in practice," he said, but he was still smiling.

And Peter's laugh had carried over the beach, Lucy noticed, and a lot of the faces had brightened when he laughed. There was something big and splendid - that was Ed's word about things he liked - about it.

So Lucy chattered a bit more, about all the things that she'd liked that morning, and about how happy Su and Ed would be to see them come home, and about how she wanted to talk to Aslan about bringing the Exiles home, and what Peter thought He'd say, and Peter laughed and responded and looked happier and happier. By the time they reached the boat - one of the last loads - he looked as much better as if he had leaned against the cliff, Lucy thought, satisfied. Talking did that for her as well (2).

Peter, seeing the sailors looked tired, took turns spelling them as they rowed out to the ship. He and another of the sailors handed Lucy up, as high as they could, and she climbed the rest of the way by a ladder hanging over the side.

Lady Hadassah and Lord Branther were waiting at the top, Lord Branther sharp and business-like, a brisk bow to Lucy before looking over the side. But Lady Hadassah took Lucy's hand again. "Follow me to your cabin, your Majesty?" she asked. Lucy willingly followed her, and she took her to a cabin just off the deck. "You'll be sharing with me, my mother, and Lady Peredus, if you could, your Majesty," Hadassah said. Lucy looked around at the tiny room, two bunks on two adjacent walls, a window to the outside opposite one, and the wall with the door with dressers that looked full.

"Oh, this is lovely!" she said, going to the bunk and running her fingers along the smooth wood. She turned around. "Can I have the top bunk? Please?" she asked, and Lady Hadassah smiled.

"Of course," she said. "Pick which one you want, your Majesty."

Lucy climbed to the top of the one opposite the window, and looked out. "I can see the sea!" she said. It was a glorious blue in the sunny morning, framed by the wood. "Oh, Lady Hadassah," she said, then paused. She got down and went up to the woman, who was looking down at her with a smile. "Will you watch Peter for me? He's even more tired than I am, and he needs to rest," Lucy said pleadingly.

"It would be my honor, Queen Lucy," Lady Hadassah said gravely, but as Lucy smiled and went out, her lips twitched. But her smile faded after a few moments, leaving only a look of longing in its place.

Peter was speaking with Lord Brintold, Branther, and Peredus when Lucy ran up. "...think the boats will shatter on impact, leaving enough of a hole to sink the pirates," Peter finished explaining. He put his arm around Lucy's shoulders. "The turtles will be underwater except for their shells, and we won't have to go near them; a battle won from a distance, with no losses and no danger."

"Except Galma's pirate population," Lord Branther grunted with satisfaction. "They can swim to shore, but they'll be stranded. They'll have to work to stay alive." He turned to his son, who was standing a few feet behind with Peridan and Perelandra. "Some of them might swim for us. Have the men stand armed."

"Take prisoners if you can," Peter commanded. He looked squarely at Lord Branther as Lord Branther turned back around. "We'll take them to Narnia for trial. Justice demands we give them that." Lord Branther paused, considering, but nodded.

"See to it," he dismissed his son, and Lucy turned to Peter.

"Should I wear my dagger?" she asked.

"I hope you don't have to use it, Lu," Peter said. "But if it makes you feel safer, go ahead. These are just precautions we're taking. I'm headed back to the beach, to see how the boats are coming on. Want to come?"

"Yes! I want to see the cave!" Lucy said excitedly. "Is there room for me?"

"Should be," Peter said. He walked to the ladder hanging over the side and went down first. "Carefully," he called up to Lucy, and he and Peridan rowed the last ship towards the beach. But at Peridan's directions, they went around it, towards the cliff face, dodging rocks till they reached the mouth of a giant cave. It was larger than Cair Paravel's front door, large enough to sail a ship through. They entered, and found torches hanging on either side, guiding them through a long tunnel, torches along the walls that reflected in the water. Lucy shivered; she liked the mermaids' caves better. But she sat up - she thought she heard hammering, metal on metal.

"There, up ahead," Peridan said, and she looked and saw a beach, with a roaring fire on it. To one side lay a giant stack of wood, planks of all sizes; on the other were benches where men were working with tools. On the beach were the other eight boats, and five of them had ends that gleamed in the light of the roaring red fire. Completely surrounding the boats were the glistening shells of turtle after turtle.

They beached by the lumber pile, careful to avoid the turtles. Heads raised, long necks stretching, and as they walked past the black eyes blinked slowly, but none of the turtles said a word.

Peter bowed to them and continued walking. He went to the table Lord Jarrick stood, the man running his fingers through a great haphazard pile of nails and selecting long, straight ones, laying them in a neat row to the side.

"We brought the last boat," Peter told him, and Jarrick nodded.

"So you did, your Majesty, so you did. Only it occurred to me, as I was fitting the third boat, that me might need it to take us out to the ship. Especially if her Majesty is along," and he nodded at Lucy, "but that would leave one pirate ship running free. And I'd prefer they didn't come near where my wife was berthed, nor the others. So when the turtles came back, I went over to speak with them - and Aslan's mane, my mother wouldn't have been laughed to tears, to hear me say that - and they've offered us a ride out to the ship, calm as you please." He paused. "I like them, your Majesty. They seem the steady type, if a bit slow."

"We like them too," Lucy confided to him. "And we get to ride them back to the ship?" She remembered the hard, smooth circle underneath her when she'd fallen in the sea, and thought about riding it through the cave and out in the sea again - it sounded like a great adventure. Though Henry wouldn't like that adventure, as it involved getting wet.

"So they said, your Majesty. They've been playing around a bit with the finished boats, working on steering them as a team. Wrecked the first two boats a bit, till they got the hang of it, but we repaired them. Then they taught the other teams. They can guide the boast right around the rocks now, and talked about the weak points in the pirate ships to hit - they've got a better view of those than we have! I think the plan might just work." He paused. "And we'll be finished with three more of the boats soon. We should finish all of them today, King Peter. Then we - well, the turtles - can attack whenever they want to."

"Tonight," said a slow voice from behind them.

"Purpoise!" Lucy cried, running to greet her friend. She knelt beside him and hugged his head; and heard a strange, lilting, laughing sound roll through the turtles behind her.

"They have not seen a human hug a turtle in a long time, young queen," said Purpoise solemnly, but Lucy thought his eyes were twinkling. "Queen Dwarfsteele did so, and her children when they were young, but it has been a long time in our memory since we have seen it."

"Purpoise, good afternoon," Peter said politely. "You think we should attack tonight?"

"I think if we do not attack, they will, and I think that would be unpleasant and deadly, High King," said Purpoise gravely. "We will be safer at night, in the dark before moonrise, when the tides turn. We will take your boats and break the tools of our enemies." He let his head rest against Lucy's lap. "Aslan sends all things in His time, and I am glad I have lived to see this," he said. "But I am sorry there are so many in the sea who make fighting and battles needed."

"We'll have the boats ready," Lord Jarrick said. Already three groups of four men were walking towards the boats, great curving iron plates in their hands. They fit them to the front of three boats and clenched metal clamps over the top, hammering them in place. Lucy watched them for a while, till she got a little bored, and then she went to play with the turtles. Purpoise introduced her to far more names than she could remember, and they all invited her to swim with them. She slipped into the cover (with Peter's permission), and found out just how much fun swimming with turtles was - they slipped under her, around her, and the young ones who came (and who all and often asked for hugs, as they'd never felt it before) made a game of seeing if they could leap over her. Squint earned the honor of jumping "the absolute highest!" and the adults laughed and played around her.

A few hours passed, and Peter's voice rang over the waters. "Lucy! Lu, we're ready to go back!" The adult turtle nearest her shoved himself under her and bore her back to shore, the water rippling past her at his speed. She staggered to her feet as soon as they touched sand.

Nine boats gleamed on one end, and the other held scraps of metal to balance out the weight. The tables were cleared of tools, shoved into bags that the sailors wore over their shoulders, and all of them had started wading into the water.

"Lu, you're soaked," Peter said. "Come on, we'll get you back to the ship to warm up." He waded further in, up to Lucy's waist, and Purpoise called,

"Here, High King. I will take you back."

"And I you, Queen Lucy," said a rippling voice from Lucy's other side, and Parable surfaced beside her. Lucy hugged her head gently - she was glad turtles liked hugging so much! - and tried to jump on Parable's back.

She slid right off. Peter laughed, tiredly, and picked her up, setting her on Parable's back and telling her to hold tight. She did, leaning forward, and Parable drifted to where Peter climbed on Purpoise's back. Jarrick and the sailors were getting on other turtles, and Lucy heard the various "Ooomph!" as sailors discovered the slipperiness of wet shells.

"Hold their shells, above where their heads come out!" she called.

"Right," "Got it!," and "Thank you, your Majesty," echoed above the splashes. Purpoise waited till everyone was secure, and swam out.

The ride to the ship was three times as fast as rowing. They blew through the cave, the torches a dot that grew bigger and then smaller in a matter of seconds. Outside the wind blew all over Lucy's wet clothing, and she shivered even as she laughed, for the water was splashing, the stars were appearing, and they were gliding through the water as smoothly as merfolk. The sailors were laughing or exclaiming, and Lucy heard Peter laughing again, urging, "Faster, Purpoise, faster!" All around them shells surfaced and the turtles began laughing with them, the smaller ones jumping, and all over the sea the water rang with the joy of two kinds working together. This, Lucy thought, was what Aslan loved.

They reached the ship far too soon; all the Travelers were at the sides, watching and talking, children shoving to the railing to get a better view and their mothers holding them from falling off. Some time, Lucy thought, we need to get all of them in the water. Everyone would be happy then.

Purpoise brought Peter to the ladder, Parable and Lucy just by his side. Peter climbed up, looking back down to check for his sister, and Lucy reluctantly climbed up. She was cold, but this was fun. But Peter had a good dose of Susanisms, Lucy thought, and wanted Lucy to get dry and warm and eat. She told him she would if he did, though, and laughed at his grumbling face. Lady Hadassah sent Jarrick to make sure Peter changed and took Lucy in hand. The crew of iron-workers from the cave ate together, the Travelers gathered around them, and told them all about the boats, the turtles, the ride back, and Lucy sat sleepily and watched it all while the sky grew darker and darker, Peter warm on one side. She fell asleep.

But she woke when he got up, gently putting her down. She sat up. He was walking to the side, and she shook herself and followed him. He reached the edge and climbed down the ladder; she poked her head over the top, smiling at him when he looked up. He nodded and continued climbing, till he was just above the water's edge. Purpoise and a group of turtles were waiting there.

"Well?" he asked softly.

"Seven ships sank, your Majesty," Purpoise said gravely and softly. "But two of the ships, the two that the men repaired, shattered before tearing a big enough hole. Two pirate ships still float on the sea."

OOOOO

(1) So I did a good deal of research on ramming - especially since it was used, went out of fashion when sailing ships came in (instead of ones powered by oars), and then came back again with ironclad hulls for a time. Most of the articles are on the ironclad hulls, which didn't help much. If anyone is interested, per the Wikipedia article "Navel rams," "the use of rams specifically required oarsmen over sails in order to maneuver with accuracy and speed, and particularly to reverse the movement of a ramming ship to disentangle it from its sinking victim, lest it be pulled down when its victim sank [...] Heavy timbers were shaped and attached to the hull, and then the bronze ram was created to fit around the timbers for added strength [...] A key element in the design and construction of a ramming vessel is the ability to stop its forward progress and reverse course, the better to allow the rammed ship to sink without her crew boarding the ramming vessel. As navies became more dependent on sailing ships, which do neither well, rams were generally discarded."

(2) (Hopefully obviously) it was more talking with Lucy that cheered Peter up, but I thought it'd be more characteristic of Lucy to enjoy talking with anyone and thinks the same applies to Peter.

OOOOO

Response to Guest: I'm glad you're enjoying the chapter so much, but I'm sorry for the cliffhanger! I'm pretty sure the ships will have bad luck, but that won't matter with Aslan watching over them. :)

Response to Anonymousme on "Reflected Light": I have a list of prompts I'm going through right now (in addition to this story), but I'll add it to the list and see if my brain comes up with anything. :) It might be a while, though. :( I have read the majority of Lady Alambial's work since we last spoke, and enjoyed them. I hope you enjoy rereading Meeting the Legends!


	22. Chapter 21 The Battle

**Chapter two, one, (zero!): The Battle**

Disclaimer: I've never been in a pirate battle, and to say I own this one (and the characters in it) is laughable. We're finally on to the trip home!  
And there's a complication that is entirely lbernstiennm's brilliant fault. No spoilers, but it should be obvious by the end of the chapter.

* * *

"The pirates are fighting now, High King," Purpoise said gravely. "They fight each other for room on the two ships; only half swam to shore."

"They will weaken themselves that way, and good riddance" said a curt voice behind Lucy; she rolled over, carefully avoiding the side of the ship with her head, and Lord Branther was standing there.

"There'll still be enough to want to come fight," said Peter's voice below. Lord Branther bent over the side.

"Two to one is still better odds than nine to one," he called down. "We've won battles like that before."

"It's all in Aslan's hands anyway," Peter said. Lucy thought his tone sounded weary. "It doesn't matter if it's two to one or two hundred to one, we'll still win if He wants us to."

Lord Branther paused a moment. "True," he said. "Your Majesty, if you would climb back up, perhaps it is time you got some sleep? A weary soldier is a poor one." He reached down and picked Lucy up; she blinked in surprise. He was as strong as the man she could almost remember, from that other place; he held her just the same way, cradled as if she weighed very little. She curled up, burying her face in his shoulder. He felt very, very safe. She heard Peter come up, and they said a few things, about getting the lords and Lord Timoth being absent, but by the time she woke the next morning, she couldn't remember the details.

The next morning Peter and Lord Brintold called a meeting after breakfast. The Travelers gathered, crowding onto the deck, by the helm, even up the mast, quietly listening as their king and their leader stood on a small platform. Peter explained the situation of the pirate fleet, that ten of the twelve ships had been destroyed, with the help of the turtles, but two were still seaworthy. Lord Brintold stepped forward after he finished. "We can no longer go back. Our former home is a wasteland filled with enemies. Forward is the only way we can look, and there are enemies there as well. Warriors, go about armed. Sailors, keep a constant watch, switching rotations as Lord Jarrick and Lord Peredus, who are far better sailors than I, command. Those who belong to neither group, you are assigned cooking, cleaning, and making life livable for the rest of us, if you would. Lady Jarrick and Lady Peredus's daughter, Perelandra, will oversee that. We sail for our new home."

The crowd was silent a moment, then "For Narnia!" rent the air. Lord Rodger, a grin on his face that would rival a turtle's, raised his sword as he shouted for his new home. Men to his left and right unsheathed their swords and shouted the same. Peter, unsheathing Rhindon, raised it as well.

"For Narnia and for Aslan! (1)" Lucy, jumping to her feet, echoed her brother's cry, and the ship rang with the sound, echoing over the waters. Lord Jarrick jumped to the platform, eyes bright in the sun.

"Sailors, weigh anchor! Run up the sail!" Men below jumped forward, running to ropes and the anchor chain. Other men, and a few women with bows, moved to the edges, turning towards the sea, setting a watch with hands on their weapons. Lucy, watching, ran to her cabin. She'd forgotten her dagger that morning. She opened the door - there was no one else there, and scampered up the end of the bunk to her lofted bed. There, by the wall, was a small bag Perelandra had given her, filled with her change of clothing and other belongings. She buckled on the dagger, bent over to avoid the ceiling, and hesitated. She reached back in the bag and rummaged around till she found her cordial, then put the chain over her head. With pirates, she might need both. She hoped Peter wouldn't need the cordial, though. She clambered back down.

Outside was a mass of activity, children running, women moving swiftly, and the sound of metal clanging metal and cloth snapping in the wind. Lucy felt the deck lurch under her feet, and drew in a breath of the sea air. They were doing it. They were moving, up and down, up and down, on the way back to Narnia, and all of the Exiles were coming home. She went to find Lady Hadassah.

Lady Hadassah was not to be found. Lucy seemed to be always missing her, the busy lady moving from deck to gallery to below to deck, but never where Lucy was when Lucy was there. So Lucy went to find Perelandra instead, below deck. She was with her mother; Lady Peredus was a quiet, tired-looking woman who rarely spoke, even in the cabin last night. Perelandra held her hand and sometimes turned to ask questions, but otherwise gave quiet advice that others listened to.

"No, stores should stay below; I think we should keep the deck clear in case of fighting. Don't you, mother?" After receiving a nod, Perelandra turned back to the three women in front of her. "Keep a clear, wide path from the door, too. If we need to put the children and such below in a fight, we need them to have room to move. Oh, and put large things by the door, on either side, in case we need to barricade it once we're below. Oh, your Majesty!" and she hastily stood, seeing Lucy.

"Please sit back down, do," Lucy implored. "I'm just looking for something to do, Perelanda. Can I help?"

"Lady Hadassah said to remember you were a child and couldn't do much heavy lifting," Perelandra said hesitantly. "But I'm sure you can do something else," she said quickly, when she saw Lucy's face fall. "Can you help take water to the sailors and warriors? They've been out in the sun, and will be for most of the day. Lady Hadassah assigned water rations. Would you help take them to them?"

"I'd love to!" Lucy said enthusiastically. "I can get to know them better!" She ran back to the door, Perelandra calling "The water's in the galley!" as she went.

Lucy spent the next few hours serving the Exiles. Water first, running down the line on one side of the ship, offering a drink from either of the large wooden mugs in each hand; she gave some to a group of children chasing a laughing Henry the Badger as well. But her favorite stop was the two young Lords and Peridan, all grouped at one end.

"To your health, and ours, your Majesty!" Lord Rodger said, grinning down at her as he raised his cup. He took a drink and passed it to Lord Timoth. Lord Timoth took it, frowning. "Cheer up, Tim," Lord Rodger said, digging his elbow into his sword-brother's side. "We're actually _on our way_ to Narnia. There might be battle on the horizon, our enemies have been greatly reduced, and we now serve a king, like we were always meant to! Why the dismal face?"

Lord Timoth swallowed his water and stared at the mug. When he didn't move Lucy reached for it. "Are you all right?" she asked.

He jumped and looked up at her. "I'm fine," he said shortly. Peridan and Rodger both frowned at him. "Your Majesty, I'm sorry," he added.

"Tim?" Lord Rodger asked, his cheer falling away. "What's wrong, my brother?"

"I don't want to fight," Lord Timoth whispered, head down, his fingers clenching and unclenching on the sword at his side.

"We may not have to," Lucy said, trying to cheer him up. She set the mugs down and hugged him around the waist, as high as her arms could reach. All three lords froze. "We could outrun them," she said, looking up. Lord Timoth was looking down at her, aghast. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"...we never imagined hugging our new sovereigns, your Majesty," Peridan said. He started to chuckle, then laugh, and then nearly fell over laughing, Rodger joining him.

"Tim, your _face_," gasped Rodger.

"It's not funny, Rod!" Lord Timoth said, his face turning red. Lucy let him go, but frowned up at him.

"We hug in Narnia," she informed him. She was going to hug _anybody_ who looked as sad as Lord Timoth had.

"We found that out, your Majesty!" Lord Rodger said, still laughing hard. He paused for breath. "May I have one too? I like unexpected hugs." Lucy wrapped her arms around him, and he hugged her back as gently and firmly as Peter. "And Peridan too," he said, squeezing her gently and then pushing her towards the third young man, who grinned and hugged her like he would his sister.

"I think Aslan sent us better sovereigns than we knew to ask for," Peridan said. He stepped back, then unexpectedly knelt. Lord Rodger and Lord Timoth watched him with a puzzled look. "If it comes to a fight, your Majesty, on board or in Narnia, I swear to protect you with my sword and my life," he said. Lucy looked back, not sure what to say; Lord Rodger knelt a moment later.

"I swear the same, good your Majesty," he echoed, and Lord Timoth knelt beside him.

"Thank you," Lucy said uncertainly. "Thank you very much?" Lord Rodger laughed and rose, the other two a second behind him.

"Nay, we thank Aslan, for sending us sovereigns such as you," he said merrily. He bent down and collected the two large mugs, handing them back to her. She took them and promised to be back later.

The elderly Lord Brintold stayed with those running the ship; Jarrick, Peredus, and Miltrel were all sailors, though all three also wore swords sheathed on their belts. Lord Branther, hale even though old, commanded the warriors on one side, Peter on the other. Lucy made a special visit to him each time she passed that side of the deck. He'd frowned at the sight of the dagger on her waist, but nodded at her when she'd looked at him questioningly, and hadn't mentioned it. He waited, with the others, patient in a way Lucy hadn't seen before, tall, still, alert, ceaseless in vigilance but with a determination and peace. The warriors and sailors watched him, and waited as well. Lucy, too, as the air grew warmer and the breeze picked up, as the ship rocked, was waiting, though she wasn't sure exactly for what.

Before the lunchtime meal, the lookout in the crow's nest sounded the alarm. Two ships were bearing their way.

Lucy ran to the edge; Lord Rodger shoved her away. "Get below deck!" he yelled, eyes on the horizon and sword unsheathed. Lord Timoth beside him gulped but also drew his sword. Lucy turned and went towards the door; it was already full of children. She turned, at the end of the running line of people disappearing below. She would stay outside, just at the door, and guard it. _No one_ was getting to the new Narnians. As she drew closer to the door she slipped to one side. She leaned against the wood; a few moments later she heard the door slam, and the thud of furniture being placed against it.

I didn't promise Peter I'd go inside, she thought, feeling suddenly guilty. And they're my Narnians too. But a part of her knew an eight-year-old girl shouldn't be in a fight. I'm already outside, she thought. I'll stay.

The ship itself was almost silent, other than the snap of sail and rope. The jingling of metal, pounding footsteps, had all stilled in the time it took the line to get below, and now the only ones on deck - and there were a lot of them - were warriors with unsheathed swords. Lucy looked up; poised in the crow's nest was a small ring of archers, bows strung but not drawn. She wished, suddenly, that Susan was here. She suddenly caught the silhouette of Robin, perched up there as well; and she saw Dourfog's tall form among the soldiers near Peter. She hoped Henry was below.

Another sound, small, almost lost - a creak and groan. Louder, and louder; now there was yelling, screaming, jeering. Sound carries over water; but it was getting closer. To one side Lucy saw the ugly figurehead of a grimacing mermaid emerge, running forward, running faster than their ship. She looked left; there was another, a grinning wooden skull. The pirates, ugly, dirty, bearded men with swords and cruel smiles, were on the decks, swarming over the ropes, as thick on those ships as the Travelers were on theirs. Still her ship held quiet, eyes on Lord Branther, on Peter, on the pirates; but no one moved.

"Fire!" Peter's voice, bellowing a single command; the archers at the top drew back and fired. The jeers became snarls, or cries of pain, and Lucy pressed against the wall, covering her ears. Battles were ugly things (2). Frightened, she wished she'd gone below. The snarls built to roars; "Fire again!" Another round, and another, and Lucy's hands couldn't block out the screams. She drew her dagger instead.

"BOARD!" roared over the waves, and ropes swung from either ship to the Exiles'.

"Cut the lines!" Lord Branther yelled, and swords flashed, but already pirates were climbing over. Sword soon met sword, and the deck became chaos. Lucy, still huddled against the wall, saw near one end where the Exiles, including Peridan, Rodger, and Timoth, fought six men, and more were crawling over the ropes, or swinging in. She looked at the dagger in her hand, and darted forward.

Under one clash of swords, through another pair of well-worn trousers, diving underneath and rolling as a pirate tried to stab her, she got up and ran again. Reaching them, she brought her dagger down on the rope and it snapped.

She reached for the next one; cut. A single blow. She ducked; a man tumbled over the deck and into the water. She cried, but reached with the dagger for the next rope, skidding back as a sword came down near her.

"Queen Lucy!" yelled a horrified voice; Peridan was suddenly in front of her, battling back the sword of a grinning, dark-skinned pirate. "Go below! Go below!" he yelled at her, and she shook her head and cut another line.

"Rodger! Timoth! Help me!" Peridan yelled, and Lucy looked up in time to see a sword break through the pirate's chest from behind. He fell and Lord Timoth took his place. "Queen Lucy!" Peridan yelled.

"Lucy?!" Peridan's yell had carried, and Peter turned towards them, his face going white.

"Queen, is it? Little thing for a queen," said a gravelled voice, and Peridan whirled to his left, sword reaching out for a grey-bearded pirate there. "Lads, we've got a queen!" His shout brought six or seven more pirates to circle the three Narnians, and Lucy breathed quickly as she tightened her grip on her dagger.

"Aslan," she breathed.

The grey-bearded pirate looked at her. "Of what use is he here?" He looked to the others. "Get her!" A wall of people pushed forward; Peridan's back hit her, and she was pushed against the wood of the ship, blades ringing in her ears; she couldn't _see. _She could see behind her, though, and she cut one more line.

"Tim!" It was a scream, and Lucy saw one of the backs in front of her shake. There was a sword cutting into one arm. She pushed it off with her dagger, and Timoth fell to his knees in front of her. "Tim!" Lord Rodger was there, pushing three of them back; Peridan had the others, and Lucy stumbled forward to where Timoth was. "Hold on, little brother, hold on, you'll be fine," Rodger was saying, and Lucy uncapped her cordial quickly and put a drop in the panting mouth about her height. He blinked, and focused on her. She screwed the cap back on.

"Queen Lucy? What-" he shoved himself to his feet. "Rod, look out!"

But it was too late; the sword had already gone through his heart. He fell at Lucy's feet. She ran to him, tugging, trying to turn him over, Lord Timoth killing the grey-bearded pirate who killed his friend in the same moment. He knelt back down and shoved Lord Rodger over; but he was dead (3).

"Please, please," Lord Timoth said, begging, and Lucy unscrewed the cordial and gave him one drop, three sailors and Peridan still fighting over their heads. She held her breath, hoping, praying - but Lord Rodger did not move, and his wound did not heal.

"I'm sorry," she said, rubbing her eyes; Lord Timoth was crying, too, and didn't move. Another body fell a boat's length away, a Narnian, and Lucy looked once more at Lord Rodger, closing his eyes, and then she ducked and ran to the other Narnian, praying she could help him at least.

"Queen Lucy!" yelled Peridan, and she heard footsteps behind her; a glimpse of a sword as he took a blow meant for her. She knelt; Peter was suddenly _right there,_ shoving her towards the mast; she leaned past him and let a drop of cordial fall into the Narnian's mouth. Peter and Peridan were close to her, fighting in front of her.

"ENOUGH!" The same roar that had yelled for the pirates to board cut through the battle, calling from the front of the ship. "WE HAVE HOSTAGES! LAY DOWN YOUR ARMS!"

Lucy, still crouched behind Peter and Peridan, couldn't see; but the sounds of battle gradually ceased, and Peter and Peridan turned in the direction of the voice. Lucy pushed forward - Peter grabbing her shoulder and keeping her by him - and saw, up by the helm, a fat man in a rich robe, a sword at his waist and a dagger in hand. In his other hand he was holding aloft a small round sphere. She squinted at it. Behind him were four others, two holding - bags? No, nets. Nets filled, she realised with horror, with small turtles. The sphere in the fat man's hand was Squint, head and legs drawn into his shell.

He had Squint.

She was suddenly fighting mad. It was _Squint_. Tiny, baby Squint. She rushed forward, only for Peter to yank her back.

The fat man looked pleased with himself, licking his lips. "Caught all these last night, we did, following the older ones." He looked over the ship. "As they sunk our ships," and his voice, still falsely pleasant, made Lucy shudder, "I assume they're related to you. And so we have something to bargain with."

"Robin." It was whisper, leaving her brother's lips. A second later the bird landed on his shoulder. "Ready the archers. On my signal, they take out the two with the nets. All four if they can." Her brother was implacable, a steel grip on her shoulder and iron in his voice. "The leader is mine." Robin flitted away.

"What do you want?" Peter called, stepping forward. He moved Lucy back, passing her off to Peridan without looking her way. He took another step forward, his eyes never leaving the colorful, grimy captain.

The captain looked at him and began to laugh. "A boy?" he scoffed. "A BOY?! You seek to bargain with the terror of the sea? Enough of beardless boasters! Where is the captain of this ship?"

"The Lord Jarrick of Narnia is its captain, but I am his king," Peter said calmly. "State your demands."

The captain eyed him dubiously. "Does the boy speak true?" he demanded, his voice booming over the ship.

"High King Peter of Narnia is the one who addresses you," Lord Branther called. Lucy glanced over; he leaned on the railing of the ship, sword red and three bodies at his feet. "He has our loyalty. Address him with respect."

The captain began to laugh, fat belly shaking, Squint bobbing up and down in his hand. "Loyalty! Loyalty! Of what use is the loyalty of such as yourselves?" He sneered at Peter. "You have a traitor here, so-called king." Lucy drew in a breath. She had heard those words before.

Peter's voice was sharp. "Of what do you speak?" He took another step forward, and Lucy held her breath. Please, Peter, be careful. Don't get too close, not while there are five.

But Peter wasn't listening. He was at the foot of the stairs, looking up - three steps and he'd be by the helm. "Well?"

"How do you think we knew when to attack, boy? Or the path up the mountain? Or where you were going?" The captain laughed again, his men beginning to laugh with him. "Oh, you have been ours since the very start, since years before you came. One of their own lords traded their land and things for lives." The captain looked over the ship, nodding towards Lord Timoth, who was still on his knees by Rodger's body. "That one, he gave us all we needed to get what we wanted." The captain grew suddenly cold, ugly with the hate twisting his mouth. "Then they took my ships, and I have no more use for their _things_," he spat the word. "You, and all the fools who follow you, I will have as slaves. To make me new ships, and to go back and build us houses." He moved his dagger to Squint's shell, resting the tip on the edge of the neck hole. "You will do it or die. And I'll begin with this one."

He shoved his dagger forward, and Peter shouted "_NOW!" _ even while leaping up the steps. He ran his sword right through the captain, pushing aside the dagger with his shoulder and catching Squint as the turtle fell. THe High King fell backwards, down the steps, rolling and landing on his feet, the turtle in one hand. Four arrows hit the other pirates by the helm, and they fell. Another volley; four more fell, and then sword on sword rang out again.

This time, the battle ended quickly. Lucy, crouched by the mast, Peridan fending off the two more who came for them, barely had time to pray to Aslan before the sounds began ceasing once more.

"Torches! Torches to the barrels!" came Lord Branther's cry, and Peridan began to rush to the side. He checked himself, glanced at her, and set himself in front of her once again. She peered around him.

Others were rushing to the sides, to barrels she'd seen the crew sitting beside. A few were rushing from the section near the mast, to both sides, hands full of torches, dropping them on the ground and many kneeling to light them. They dipped the torches to the barrels and the barrels caught flame; men grabbed the bottom and threw them over, onto the pirate ships. The ships themselves began to burn; sailors cut the ropes, and the Traveler's ship was underway once more.

Lucy, feeling the lurch, got to her feet, grabbing her cordial as she stood. She knew that once again she'd have work to do.

And I'll probably be yelled at by Peter, she thought. But helping others comes first. She went forward, only to stop when she realise Peridan wasn't following. He was looking towards the side, where more and more Narnians were gathering.

Around Lord Rodger's body, Lucy realised, and around Lord Timoth. Her heart clenched.

Oh, Aslan, she thought. We've had a traitor once before. But You were here to help him. What are we supposed to do now?

* * *

(1) This should be a recognisable battle cry, but in case it's not, I hereby note I stole it. Arrests should be made on Tuesday evenings, as I'm busy any other evening of the week.  
(2) Quoted from Father Christmas in LLW; also, in my thoughts, since Lucy is eight, a first battle (up close, the charge of Aslan's army won the battle in LWW) is enough to make anyone flinch, especially in the waiting beforehand; even the valiant.  
(3) Apparently there aren't many instantaneous causes of death, but being stabbed through the heart (or the brain) is almost instantly fatal. Or so says the internet; I admit I only have the medical knowledge that clumsy people have, which is generally about bandaids, ace bandages, and how exactly to hit bones or joints so they hurt the most.

A/N: I admit, I was extremely tempted to end the chapter just when Lucy realizes it's Squint in the captain's hand, but that seemed unnecessarily cruel. So hopefully the rest of the chapter flowed smoothly.

* * *

Response to Guest(1) on "I will Always": I am so very glad the story meant that much to you. It meant much to me, as the idea was born on a difficult, tiring day, and I have been thrilled that it was a gift that can be regiven once written. Thank you for your review!

Response to Anonymousme on "I will Always": I admit summaries are one of my weakest areas (well, of the weak areas I'm aware of). But I have found some incredible songfics before; and I am very glad you liked mine. Thank you for reviewing!

Response to Guest(2) on "I will Always": Thank you, very much. I'm glad you liked it!

Response to All4Aslan on "Chains of the Captive": Thank you, for both reading it and loving it. I've been trying to better understand joy – because I've met someone who had it, and she drew everyone to her in ways all of us loved; and in _A Severe Mercy_ it talked about nonChristians watching those they called "splendid Christians" and saying they lived to a music only the Christians could hear – or did the nonChristians hear it? High and clear and unbearably sweet? - I wanted to write a story that illustrated that true joy is found only one place. … that's now a very long ramble, and I apologise!


	23. Chapter 22 Seeking Justice

**Chapter tu-tu-tu-two-two: Seeking Justice**

Disclaimer: Narnia is not mine, good suggestions in the first half by a wonderful beta lbernstiennm are not mine, and Squint is really a first cousin to the tiny tot in Finding Nemo. I do claim the mistakes, though.

* * *

Lucy moved a step towards the group. She stopped. Who needed help? The wounded? Or the traitor? Or the group of people - oh, where was Peter?

Squint, she realised. He might have been hurt. She'd find him first. She turned, looking for Peter - and she _wanted _to find Peter - when Peridan's voice said "Queen Lucy?" She turned back to look at him, and immediately went to hug him. His eyes looked like Edmund's did, after nightmares. Of course, Lucy thought, Lord Timoth was his friend. He was hurting like Edmund had hurt them.

"Oh - thank you - Queen Lucy-" Peridan stammered. "I just - I didn't know what to do - do you need help?" he asked awkwardly.

Lucy stepped back. "I need to find Peter and Squint," she said earnestly.

"King Peter. Right." Peridan drew in a breath, and looked around. "He is there, your Majesty." He pointed to where Peter had stood to his feet, and was moving towards the growing agitated group, Squint still in his hand. Lucy nodded and began walking towards him, but he disappeared into the circled crowd.

"Make way!" Peridan's voice rang behind her, and the crowd shoved itself aside. She caught a glimpse of Lord Rodger's body and Lord Timoth, still kneeling beside him, and bit her lip. A queen, she reminded herself, a queen like Susan is, and she walked forward through the aisle made for her. Peter was already there.

"Lucy," he said in relief. "You're all right?" and his eyes ran up and down, checking for hurts. She nodded, and he looked behind her. "Thank you, Peridan, for keeping her safe." The two looked at each other, and Lucy saw friendship on Peter's face. A bit of the sadness inside her lifted. She went over and looked at Squint; there was no blood, but when she tried to peer inside his shell all she saw was darkness.

"Squint?" she asked softly. "Are you hurt?"

"I don't like pirates," a squeak informed her, and she petted the shell Peter still held in his hands.

"But you're not hurt?" she asked.

A small nose poked out of the shell, and then slowly the whole head followed. "Queen Lucy!" he said excitedly. "Queen Lucy, you're not a pirate!" He looked to the side to see Peter holding him. "And King Peter rescued everyone, just like Hardshell would!" Shadows flickered over Peter's face, and he cupped the tiny turtle's head so Squint wouldn't see the body on the ground.

"Dourfog," Peter called, looking to the tallest member of the crowd, and Dourfog came forward. Peter handed him the turtle with care, still keeping his head turned away. "Take two exiles and see to the hostages. If the turtle parents are still around the ship, lower the turtles back to them; if they aren't, work with Robin to find them. We need to return their young as quickly as possible." Dourfog bowed, hands still cradling Squint to his chest, and turned, Robin fluttering to his shoulder. Peter looked over the crowd. "Lord Jarrick, please unbar the door to below deck and have your wife began to collect the wounded. They're our first priority."

"And what of the traitor?" at least two voices snarled; Lucy looked at Lord Timoth in time to see him flinch.

"The wounded first," Peter said firmly. "All those without wounds, go help." The crowd wavered, anger and duty splitting them - but then Lord Jarrick turned and walked towards the door, and men began to follow.

Most men. The rest closed around the four, guarding them, staring with accusing eyes at Timoth. They stood in silence till the deck was cleared.

Lucy thought about leaving - her place was with the wounded - but something in Peter's face made her think he was hurting too. She would go - soon - but not while Peter looked like that. Not while the world looked heavy on his shoulders. She stood by him and took his hand. She stayed there, even when Lord Timoth began to cry, his shoulders shaking, and as he buried his face in Lord Rodger's still body.

The Travelers returned within minutes, the pirate bodies thrown overboard and the wounded taken to Lady Hadassah. Four more bodies were laid at one end of the deck; only Lord Rodger's body remained, and the Travelers gathered around it. They were silent; only the sound of the waves, the sails, and Lord Timoth's soft gasps for air, carried through the air. They were waiting.

"Lord Timoth," Peter asked. "Did the captain speak truly?"

Lord Timoth looked up. "I wanted them to live." He looked back down at Rodger. "No one was supposed to die! They promised! Rodger, get up, you have to live! I tried, I did, no one died, no one, they could take everything else but they promised our lives. They wanted more and more and more, and then they wanted the island, and I - And we were leaving, we were going away, and it would solve everything. But they followed us," he said, crying harder, as the murmurs around him grew. "They followed us and Rod died anyway. I gave them everything. It wasn't enough. It wasn't enough."

Peter looked down at him with pity on his face, but snapped his head up quickly as Lord Branther stepped forward, his hand drawing his sword; three others were walking forward as well, murder on their faces.

"Stop." Peter commanded. Lord Branther halted but glared down at his fellow Traveler.

"He betrayed us!" he snarled. "We fought every summer of our lives to rid ourselves of those scum, and he made a deal with them! He _gave_ them information, gold, our food! He _helped_ them!"

"He betrayed us," Lord Brintold agreed, standing at the front of the crowd. "This is what he deserves."

"He still deserves justice, not summary execution." Peter's voice warned him. Lucy flinched as crowd stirred angrily, and Lord Branther took another step forward.

"He deserves _nothing_!" Lord Branther shouted. "He's a traitor!"

"So is our Royal brother, King Edmund." Peter's voice rang out over the deck, the water, echoing in a sudden silence. Every Exile turned, staring; Lord Timoth himself was forgotten on the deck. "He betrayed the location of his three siblings to the Witch, and told her Aslan had come to Narnia."

Lucy flashed back to a night when the three of them had found Edmund standing by one of Cair Paravel's curtained windows, twisting the material over and over in his fingers. Pressed, he told them in detail of his meeting with the White Witch, of her anger that Edmund hadn't brought the three all the way to her castle, and of him telling her proudly he had other news for her: that Aslan had come to Narnia. There was pain furrowing his face as Edmund wrestled with the fact that the first time he spoken Aslan's name was to tell the Lion's killer He had arrived, and how Aslan crowned him anyway; died for him; _loved _him.

"Aslan Himself forgave our royal brother, rescuing him from the Witch's camp." Peter's eyes met those of Lord Branther's, challenging, measuring. He looked to Lord Brintold, whose eyes fell. "Will you do less?"

"He is no rescued, repentant prisoner," Lord Branther growled. "And I am not Aslan."

"Nor are you king." Peter returned, laying his hand on his own sword. His face went hard. "I will remove Timoth and we will settle this matter in Narnia, Lord Branther." Lord Branther began to object, others joining in, Lord Miltrel the loudest, calling for an execution, even a hanging, but Peter cut them off. "I am High King," he said. "And this is how Narnia will deal with those caught breaking her laws. When he is removed, my lords, my people, we will discuss this. But I will have obedience." Peter swept a look across the other returning Exiles. "You are my subjects, and Aslan put me over you," he added more quietly. "Know this: Narnia will not condemn any subject or foreigner to death without a fair hearing." He waited till the murmurs died down, though many still looked at him angrily, before turning back to the broken boy before him. "Timoth, you will return to Narnia, and stand trial. Peridan, secure him." Timoth, crying, red hands stained with the blood of his brother, offered no resistance when Peridan stepped forward and drew his wrists together to tie them. Lord Brintold stirred himself as well, and came to Timoth's other side. The two escorted him to one of the cabins, taking him inside.

Peter looked back at the crowd. "I will place guards outside his door, and any who wish to take a private vengeance will get a public trial as well," he warned the crowd. "Queen Lucy," he said, turning to her. "It is best you see to the wounded. I will settle the rest of this."

Lucy nodded, and Peter strode off, calling "Lord Peredus, I ask that you take charge of repairs to the ropes. Lord Jarrick, take the helm. Lord Branther, ready what people can still fight and organise a watch. There may be more pirates." Peter turned to each as he spoke, receiving their nods, and then he went to the side. Lucy, watching, saw him bend down and call something - to the turtles, she thought - to the water below.

But her task was elsewhere, and she ran as fast as her short legs could carry her, towards the sound of the people groaning. She ducked inside, a darker room with lanterns lit, and men stretched out in beds. "It's all right," she soothed the closest, going to his bedside. Blood stained the bed beneath her hand, a sword thrust in his side. Somehow her words didn't sound as convincing to her in her own childish voice as her memory of that other soothing, melodious voice from the other place. But she meant it. "It will be all right," and she unstoppered her cordial. She let a drop fall into his gasping mouth; he closed and swallowed, surprise mixing with the pain. A moment later his breathing eased, and he looked at wonder at his side, white skin showing through the whole in the bloody fabric.

"It's true." He eyed the cordial in her hand, shaking his head. "I wouldn't have believed it, but it is true. We're going back to a land of miracles." Lucy smiled, patting his shoulder, and got to her feet to go to the next badly wounded man.

Lucy stayed with the wounded till all were well, those seriously injured completely healed, and those with minor wounds bandaged. When she went back outside it was dark again.

She wanted Peter. She wanted Susan, with her gentle strength that was _always_ there with a warm hug and cup of tea and quiet voice. She wanted Edmund, to make sure he was safe and he wasn't - wasn't -

She remembered Lord Timoth's broken voice and felt like crying.

Peter was at the helm, speaking with Lords Brintold, Jarrick, and Peredus. She didn't want to bother him, especially if Lord Branther - or Lord Miltrel, were going to make trouble. But she needed _somebody_.

She called for Aslan. Without a word, but she wanted Him more than anything. He was the one who could make everything all right again. Like when they first were leaving, all going back to their new home. Like spring in Narnia.

For a moment, in the darkness, she felt the warm breath she'd felt at another dawn, and smelled the wild, strong scent; but a moment later it vanished, and she walked over to the ladder leading down the side of the ship. She could not have told you why, only that she felt she should. She threw her leg over the side, and descended, clinging to the rungs placed a little too far apart for her. Down, down, closer and closer to the noise wood cutting through water.

"You are where you should not be, Young Queen," said a slow, deep voice, and Lucy almost lost her grip, beginning to cry in fear and relief. "Or perhaps you are exactly where you should be. Why are you here, little one?"

She flung on arm through a rung and rubbed her eyes with the other, trying to stop. "There, there, little one. Let go," Purpoise said gently. "Let go, and I will catch you." And Lucy did, dropping into the water. It stung, at the speed they were going, but Purpoise was beneath her in a moment, lifting her up above the waves, and pulling her a little way from the ship. Level with the water, she saw the forms of many more turtles beginning to swim towards them, but Purpoise pulled away, and the other reptiles returned to the ship.

Purpoise swam in silence, and Lucy cried herself out. When she finished she wiped her eyes and nose on her sleeve, and splashed water on her face. Purpoise was still swimming strongly, pulling ahead.

"Purpoise," she said softly.

"Yes, Young Queen."

"The pirates told us Lord Timoth was a traitor."

Purpoise was silent for a moment. "Do you believe what they said is true?" he asked slowly.

"Lord Timoth said he did too." She stayed silent, thinking. "Lord Branther is very angry." She thought back the crowd, the mean words that she heard in the murmurs. "Many of them are very angry."

"Can you not see why, young one?"

"But he's sorry," Lucy said, thinking back to him beside the body. "He lost his best friend, his brother, and he's crying."

"That does not change what other people lost, or might lose, young queen. The humans are not the only ones who are angry." Purpoise's tone was deep, and Lucy looked down, startled, at the smooth shell she was riding.

"You are angry?" she asked timidly.

"There is much you need to understand, Young Queen. Squint is now very close to Parable, but he still looks at the open sea with fear. I do not know if the human lord told the pirates of the turtles, but if he did, Young Queen, you must remember the scars his actions gave others. Especially the innocent. That is part of being one who brings Aslan's justice, as well as Aslan's mercy. Justice tells you to remember that they took half our young, snatching them in nets while we slept, and though we followed fast and far, when we found them missing, we could not break into their ships, nor rescue those we were losing. Beneath my shell are bruises from where we hurled ourselves against their wooden planks; and yet it did nothing."

"I'm sorry," Lucy breathed, slipping to the side. Purpoise tilted his shell so she slid the other way.

"It does not hurt to have you ride, Young Queen. But I would have you remember them, when you come to judge. But you must remember the human's sorrow as well, and his fear." He slowed his pace, letting the ship fall a little further away. "I will answer your question, little one. I am not angry at the human, but at the pirates. They live in our waters and our part of our domain; it is ours to fight against them. It is good that another friend of yours helped us bring justice to them. But you and the High King must learn, not only to bring justice to the criminals among you, but to the victims as well." Purpoise turned his head, looking to the other turtles, and the ship. "As must I."

"Purpoise," Lucy said, thinking of what he'd said last. "You're one of the oldest turtles, aren't you?"

"Yes, Young Queen."

"Why'd you become a Narnian?" she said, sliding forward to be closer to his head. "They need you, don't they?" and she looked at the other turtles.

"I am among the oldest," Purpoise said gravely, "and I lead my people. But though we are not Narnians, Queen of Aslan, we prosper when it prospers, and fall as it falls. I saw in the four of you gifts that will make it prosper, and I offered my help to make it do so." Purpoise also turned towards the ship, pulling them closer to it by small lengths. "And you and High King Peter returned half our young to us when we thought them lost." Lucy thought back, to her anger at Squint's danger, and the way Peter saved all the turtle children. "It was good to know, your Majesty, that my allegiance was right."

Lucy breathed out. It was good to know that some things were right. "Aslan did it, didn't He?" she asked, watching the ship grow bigger and closer.

"So I believe, your Majesty. So I believe. And this will be His doing too. Aslan has a purpose in it." He drew alongside the ship.

"Queen Lucy?" said a familiar rippling voice, and Lucy turned to the side. Parable and Hardshell were alongside them, and on top of Parable's shell was a familiar small form.

"Oh, Parable, I missed you," Lucy said. She nearly flung herself off Purpoise to hug the turtle, then caught herself; they were moving too fast!

"And I you, Queen Lucy." Parable moved closer, her voice lowering, and Lucy realised that Squint was asleep, head resting on Parable's shell. "We wanted to give you our thanks. You and your people saved what is more precious to us than any other gift Aslan has given in the last hundred years. All the turtles thank you."

"We thank you too," Lucy said, thinking back to all the turtles had done. "It took all of us to destroy the pirate fleet."

"So it did," Parable said, her voice also grave. "It is perhaps the reason Aslan sent us with you, that the evil could be destroyed."

"Are all the other turtles all right?" Lucy asked, remembering the other hostages.

"Not all of them like adventure as much as Squint, but all of them were unharmed, and Dourfog was most useful in telling them bad things happen, but they must keep a bright face on it." Parable's laugh rippled, and Squint stirred. Her voice grew quieter again. "It was good for them to be warned of evil sailors, but also to see Aslan's warriors, and I do not think they will be the worse for it, Queen Lucy. Squint might even learn some much-needed caution. Be at peace about them."

"Thank you, Parable," Lucy said. She looked at the ship and sighed. A part of her liked being here, among the turtles, where she wasn't a queen, and they were so much wiser than she was. But she loved the Narnians very much, and it was time to go back. "Purpoise, can you take me close to the ladder?" He did, as close as he could while still using his flippers, and Lucy stretched her arms and hands to close around the rungs, pulling herself over, clutching the metal bars. "Thank you, Purpoise," she called, and heard his rumbling "You are welcome, Young Queen. And welcome to be back, anytime," before she began climbing.

She reached the deck and pulled herself over, content to sit for a moment. She was again very, very tired. She tilted her head back, resting it against the wood, and saw the stars. She was still learning them, back in Narnia. The Centaurs told wonderful stories about them.

Back in Narnia. Back home. Back where they were going now, and would reach tomorrow morning. Back where a trial was. She dropped her head to her knees. Aslan, I don't know how to do this. She thought of Purpoise's gentle instruction, of the need for queens and kings to keep both justice and mercy, villain and victim, and help to heal them both. It was far too much for her to do. Maybe even for Peter and Susan and Edmund to do.

But - she thought back, to the other things they'd done that day, where they'd rescued baby turtles and healed wounded Narnians. They were going back to, what had that Traveler called it? A land of miracles. Even for traitors, she thought, remembering Edmund. A land of Aslan's. All they had to do, she realised, was do what _He_ wanted.

She fell asleep thinking about Him.


	24. Chapter 23 Narnia Ahead

**Chapter (0...1)...2...3: Narnia Ahead**

Disclaimer: It's almost nine at night, I've been playing with fire already today (marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers were included), and so I won't even attempt starting the metaphorical bonfire that would blaze if I claimed Narnia.

OOOOO

Lucy woke with the first light of dawn the next morning. She was in the top bunk, light beginning to fill the little cabin, with Lady Peredus in the bunk beneath her. She blinked sleepily. There was a sound. A curious sound, one she hadn't heard since that other place...oh, snoring. She blinked again and sat up, looking to the other beds. Lady Hadassah's mother, sleeping on the bottom bunk, had her mouth slightly open and was snoring. Lucy giggled, as quietly as she could, and climbed down, slipping into her clothes, quietly, slowly turning the door handle, slipping out and shutting it as softly as possible. She turned around and giggled again; there was something _fun_ about sneaking out.

And the morning - though Lucy was too young to put it into clear words - she felt the promise that Aslan made things new, every morning; that it brought hope.

And today, Lucy thought, we'll be _home_. Maybe by lunchtime. I wonder what Susan will do with a few hundred guests for lunch? She smiled to herself. Susan would worry over it and boss everyone and love it. Lucy went to the edge, peering down and calling a greeting to the turtles still swimming along the sides.

"Queen Lucy," said a voice in her ear, and she turned quickly, and saw Henry the Badger sitting on the deck railing, head and tail up importantly, nearly quivering with excitement. "Queen Lucy," he said again in an excited whisper. "I had an adventure!"

"You did?" Lucy asked happily. Henry the Badger nodded solemnly.

"I had one I liked," he whispered back. "I told King Peter about it last night, and he was funny. He put his head in his paws and made funny noises."

Lucy paused. She knew that reaction of Peter's, but apparently Henry didn't. What had the young Badger done?

"It started when the pirates attacked," Henry said in the deepest tone he could manage (which for a Badger is a very deep sound), and Lucy tried not to smile. He was probably telling the story the way he'd heard stories told. "I saw you sneak out," and he sounded young again, "and I wanted to go to, because _pirates_ always mean adventures!"

"Sneak out from where?" Lucy asked, imagining the Badger trying to sneak up beside the helm and steer the ship with his tiny little paws.

"From below deck! I was waiting inside the door, and I saw you creep along the wall, and I slipped out after you." Lucy suddenly didn't feel like laughing anymore. If the pirates had taken baby turtles hostage, they would have had no problem killing a little badger. And all because he'd been following her. She knew why Peter had been upset, but Henry continued before she could interject. "And I followed you to the edge, and started gnawing through the ropes, but you were cutting them _so quickly_ I wanted to help more! And all the pirates were coming from the other ships, so I climbed across a rope onto the ship to see if I could stop them." Lucy's eyes widened, but Henry was too intent on his adventure to see her. "But they were really big, and I could only scratch their ankles. So I went looking for a sword or something, but the ones I found were too heavy. And they were dirty," he said, his black badger nose wrinkling. "But them I remembered that the turtles helped fight, but they didn't _fight_, and I could do the same, and I went to the bottom of the pirate ship and made holes in it. I got really wet again," he said, ears drooping. "But I hid the holes behind things so the pirates couldn't find them! And then I went and came back up, and to our ship, and then I went to the other pirate ship and did the same thing!" He shuddered. "But the pirates caught me on that one, and I had to run. But I found out it's good to be wet! He was grabbing me, and I _shook_, and it got water in his eyes and he couldn't see me." Henry paused. "Human eyes are funny."

Lucy's eyes were right then; they were open very wide. "How many holes did you make?" she asked. She could see it, badger claws digging at the wood (1), and wondered if it would be enough to cripple the ship (2).

"I made nineteen in the first ship!" Henry said proudly. "In the corners and under things and all the places they couldn't reach very well! Especially once the floor filled with water and I got wet again. But I only made seven in the second ship before the pirate found me. But they were big! One was as big as I was! I found a little hole they'd put something funny in, and I pulled it out and made the hole bigger. Much bigger. But I made too much noise doing it, and someone came down to check. And he tried to grab me, and chased me all around the bottom of the ship, with his nasty dirty sword, but he kept tripping. But he wouldn't let me up the stairs! So that's when I shook water in his eyes, and he tripped, and I got away, and came back here, and there wasn't anymore fighting, but everyone was looking at the fat man. I was going to go chew holes in the nets around the turtles, but the arrows happened first." He looked at Lucy. "Do you think that will be a good adventure to tell my family? Do you think it will make my Dad proud of me?" he asked anxiously.

Lucy put her hand on Henry's back, petting him. "Well," she said truthfully, thinking to Peter and Susan's reactions, and even Edmund's at times, "I think it will scare them that you were chased by a pirate, but I think they'll be proud you helped so much." It was true, and she knew it was true, but her stomach still twisted a little, like when Squint was in the pirate captain's hands. Only this one felt like her fault. Henry nodded, however, and leaned into her hand, then shook himself and scampered down, off to where Robin and Dourfog were looking into the sunrise. Lucy leaned against the rail and tried to figure things out, forehead furrowed. Why did she feel so bad about Henry's adventure?

"You are up early," said a cold, sharp voice behind her, and she turned to see Lord Miltrel, staring into the horizon, towards Narnia.

"I like being up early, because I like the sun," she said cheerfully, forgetting what she'd been thinking about. Lord Mitrel moved forward, leaning on the deck rail beside her.

He was quiet for several minutes. "I watched the sun, rising on the sea, while standing above it on the cliff in Galma, every morning." His voice was matter-a-fact.

"Are you going to miss it?" Lucy asked.

"It was _home_." His hands tightened on the rail, fingers white. Lucy looked at them, thinking about how they were tight around a sword when he fought, and wondering if he was fighting something now. "It was one small enough for us to keep. Or so I thought." He didn't speak, and Lucy held her breath; she thought this would be one of the times when Susan would wait, but waiting for someone to speak was _hard_. But worth it, when Lord Miltrel spoke again.

"I would have stayed." Lord Miltrel's voice was cold, as cold as the White Witch's winter. But the cold bit _inward_, in a way that still made Lucy shiver. "You know I would have." He looked at Lucy with a face like stone. " I would have stayed and fought and died, every last person there dying with me, for a home that had already been betrayed. A home we could _never_ have kept." He looked back out at the sea, towards the shore and the home he'd never seen, and his shoulders sagged. "Why is everything I wanted wrong for me to have?"

"Because you take Aslan's gift and make it a possession," said a slow, deep voice below them, and Lord Miltrel started. "When he gives things, young keeper, it is for us to care for them and love them, not possess them." Lucy scrambled her feet to lift herself up on the deck railing so she could bend over and wave. Purpoise was just below them.

"Good morning!" she called down to him.

"Good morning, Young Queen," he answered back in his slow way. "What is your name, young keeper?" he asked.

"I am Lord Miltrel, one of the seven of the Exiled Lords," Lord Miltrel answered.

"Then you are one of the seven Aslan brought back for a particular reason, young keeper, to keep the land of Narnia and those in it with the same love you kept for the sunrises from the cliffs." Purpoise lifted his flippers and pulled himself forward, keeping pace with them. "Aslan gave you the sunrise, and the home you miss. Do not cling to that so tightly you miss what He sends next. In Narnia the sunrise will be different, but painted by the same hand." He pulled himself forward again. "You will live in Narnia, and it will become home, and some day He will call you from there to the greatest home, to His own country, and you will be forever sorry if you were holding so tightly to what He gave before that you miss that last, best gift."

Lord Miltrel was speechless. Lucy looked from him - craning a bit, to keep her body level on the deck railing and not fall off while looking sideways - to Purpoise, down below.

"Purpoise," she called, when Lord Miltrel didn't seem to be saying anything, "may I ask you something?"

"Of course, Young Queen."

"Henry came this morning and told me about an adventure." She told the two near her what he'd told earlier - Lord Miltrel choking on an exclamation when he heard what the tiny Badger had done - and asked Purpoise, "Why do I feel so bad about it?"

"Young Queen," and the tone was both warning and amused, "your courage led you to help and to take risks, and it did not bother you. But remember, your courage also leads those you command. Your example - sneaking out, as the Badger said - was what led Henry to danger. If you are going to break the rules, you must be prepared for your subjects to do so as well (3). But be at peace, remembering Aslan kept him; and remember the lesson, for the future."

"I'll try," Lucy promised, feeling a bit better.

"A badger," Lord Miltrel said in a helpless tone, "a child Badger crawled into two enemy ships to keep us safe." He shook his head. "And a human lord didn't have the courage to fight for his own home," he said more bitterly. "What is this, when animals are better people than humans are?"

Lucy put a hand on his arm, aching at the hurt in his words. She clung to the railing tightly with the other. "Aslan made brave animals, just like he made brave people," she said to him. "And He made my brother into a good king after he'd been a bad person. I asked Him to help Lord Timoth too."

Lord Miltrel looked at her, a bit of wonder in his expression. "And you would hold out hope, even for a traitor," he said at last. "Perhaps Aslan sent us the right kings and queens after all. And the right counsellors." He bowed over the fence. "I thank you for your words, master turtle. Perhaps I will find the Badger and thank him for his valiant efforts as well." He patted Lucy's hand on his arm. "And thank you, your Majesty."

"Lucy," called Peter's voice from father down the ship, and she turned - still balancing - to see him coming towards her, "Lord Jarrick says - Lucy, get down from there!" He hurried over, but Lord Miltrel was already helping the queen climb down. "Lucy, be careful, you could fall. Lord Miltrel," and Peter nodded. Lord Miltrel bowed back.

"Good morning, your Majesty. If you will excuse me, I think I must go speak with the crew, about waiting for Narnian justice. Good morning, Queen Lucy," and Lord Miltrel left with a final bow, walking away with firm steps. Peter watched him go, a puzzled frown on his face.

"What were you talking about, Lu?"

"Humans and animals and Aslan saving people and Henry's adventure and breaking the rules," Lucy said, trying to remember everything they'd talked about.

Peter looked at her, opened his mouth, shut it, and then smiled, nearly laughing. "I think Aslan sent you to Narnia for people just like Lord Miltrel, and I'm very glad he did," he said, tugging Lucy closer. "I'll leave it be. Lord Jarrick says we should be in Narnia very soon. I wanted to come talk to you about telling Edmund and Susan." The smile faded. "We're coming back with the Narnian exiles, and instead of settling who goes where and helps what, we're going to be holding a trial." He drummed his fingers on the rail Lucy had been climbing a minute before.

"We need to hold it on the shore," Lucy said, thinking about the turtles who were below. Peter bent his head to look at her, surprised. "I talked with Purpoise last night, and the turtles need to be there, to see it," she told him soberly. "They took baby turtles too."

Peter looked tired. "You're right, and that's what we'll do. But I'm not sure I'm cut out for this, Lu. I don't know exactly what we're supposed to do with him."

"Edmund will," Lucy said confidently. "He's been studying the laws, remember? He'll have some ideas."

"I'm worried about this hurting him," Peter said, worry still on his face.

"Do not be, High King," said the same slow voice before, and Lucy giggled when Peter started just like Lord Miltrel had. Apparently the water was a very good place to eavesdrop. "Aslan made your brother king, and if He put the law in your brother's domain, it was to strengthen your brother as well as Narnia. You need not fear that Aslan will work for your brother's harm through the gifts of responsibility He gives."

Peter looked down at the water, a small smile smoothing out the worried wrinkles. "Purpoise, your counsel is a gift," he said sincerely. "I thank you for it."

"I am glad to give it, High King. It is one of the responsibilities Aslan gave me that has strengthened me, reminding me of what is true. It will be the same for your brother."

Peter nodded, then looked up as a bird's cry echoed over the water. It was Robin, spreading his wings and flying upwards. "Narnia, Narnia, Narnia!" he called, the cry lifting every head and bringing those sitting to their feet. "The shores of Narnia!" Lucy and Peter looked out, eager to see their homeland - and saw a tiny blur of darker color on the horizon.

But it was _home_, Lucy thought, home in the way sunrises on a cliff were for Lord Miltrel. It was so very, very good to see home.

Behind them the other Travelers were gathering, all up and down that side of the ship, looking towards what Robin saw, and murmurs, excited, nervous, grew.

"Narnia," breathed a soft voice behind Lucy, and she tilted her head back to see Lady Hadassah, Lord Jarrick standing beside her with his arm around her waist, both with their eyes fixed on the far away land. "Narnia at last."

OOOOO

(1) I found out that yes, badgers dig tunnels up to four meters long, and will even eat wood at times, so I think, especially if he had the sense to look for tools, Henry could dig holes in the thick planks of a ship. Just because Lucy pictured him doing it with his claws didn't mean that's what happened.  
(2) Apparently (thank you Google), even a single hole below the water line can sink a ship, because the weight of the ship increases as it fills with water, and this increases the pressure. Most ships, however, fighting ship to ship, can't create holes below the water line, only above it. Those are much less of a problem; but being inside the ship, Henry had a bit of an unfair advantage.  
(3) So...as a teacher, I will admit I've made the mistake before of breaking a rule (like making a face at the wrong time) at a place when it would cause no harm, and even do some good, but quickly found that for me to do so meant class-wide permission for everyone else to break the rule as well, and that only ever leads to chaos. Part of being a role model means not breaking a rule for any reason, even a good one, until _everyone_ can do the same. I'm not sure I conveyed that lesson properly here, but I tried. I think that might have been one reason why Lucy kept to her brother's rules, like not carrying the cordial with her to the wars, or staying with the archers during a battle - because even though she had the courage, she knew to break her brother's commands would lead to others doing the same, and then there's no authority left.

A/N: The idea for Henry's adventure was begun by lbernsteinnm, who asked what Henry was doing during the attack. So thank her for the story that wraps up his storyline and the last of the pirate fleet; it made it much easier for me as an author!


	25. Chapter 24 Docking in Narnia

**Chapter 2 2x2: Docking in Narnia**

**Disclaimer: The land is very clearly Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy's, and their peoples, and I'm not going to dispute with the conquerors of the White Witch _or_ Aslan's chosen.**

**A/N: My thanks to lberstiennm, who kept my attention focused on the Travelers reaction to Edmund's betrayal, pointed out weak points and things I hadn't thought of very graciously, and brainstormed the majority of this with me.**  
**A/N2: Better just call this the acknowledgements - trustingHim17 also kindly beta'd this for me, which means it's a lot better in accuracy and the general lack of typos. My thanks!**

OOOOO

There was a moment Lucy would always remember, a time her breath whispered white through the air and her hand reached out to touch a metal pole in the middle of a wood, one held inside a wardrobe in the middle of summer. The wonder of that moment she'd never forgotten.

Lady Hadassah, Lord Jarrick, the two girls her own age to her left, and even Peter to her right, stared at Narnia's shore with the wonder of exiles coming home and children seeing magic. She looked herself, a lump in her throat. Cair Paravel, Edmund, Susan - she couldn't wait to see them again. It was so _close_.

"Narnia!" sang Robin once again, and he lifted his wings and flew before the ship.

"Foolish, flighty bird." Lucy heard Dourfog's mumble, carried back clearly across the deck. "He'll wear out his wings getting there. All the feathers will fall off, I should think."

"Robin!" Peter's clear call carried across the sea, and Robin turned and flew back, coming to land on the rail before his High King and bow. The entire ship waited, wondering, stilling to hear their king's command. "When we get closer to shore, good cousin, I ask that you go announce our arrival, so our royal brother and sister may not be alarmed. Ask them to gather the Narnians with rafts, as our boats were lost in the skirmish. And let them know to come welcome the former Exiles home." He glanced round the crowd, smiling. Robin bowed and flew up to Peter's shoulder.

"They'll faint, I should think," said a gloomy voice, and Dourfog, head above the crowd, looked over them doubtfully. "Talking Cheetahs and Squirrels that won't shut up and singing Sparrows with chirpy songs - it's a lot to get used to."

"It's everything Mum told in her bedtime stories," said a breathless voice; one of the fair-haired girls next to Lucy turned to look at her face, the Narnian ruler her same height, and it was to her she spilled her questions. "Are there really going to be singing Sparrows? Really? You promise? Who talk to you when you go outside to get herbs for Mum when she makes breakfast?"

"All that and more," Peter promised. He looked over the Exiles - the Narnians who were his now. "Go gather your things, good people, anything that you can take with you that won't swamp a raft."

"Sailors, to the ropes!" Lord Jarrick called. "Fill the sails! We'll get to Narnia by lunch, if the wind keeps up."

"We'll be _home_," said a sharp voice, and Lucy turned in surprise to see Lord Miltrel. "We'll act accordingly." He paused. "I mean that," and his voice was warning. "Respect the Narnians, and their Sovereigns - _all four_ of their Sovereigns - and give them the honor due Aslan's royalty. Dismissed." The crowd scattered, but Lucy shifted restlessly. What had he meant by that?

"Lu. Lu. _Lucy_." She realised Peter was calling her.

"Yes?"

"I _asked_, do you have anything to pack?" Her brother was smiling good naturedly, but Lucy realised he probably had a lot of work to do.

"Just my bag. I'll go get it!" She ran towards her cabin, slipping inside. She gathered her bag and slipped out again, leaving behind Lady Hadassah packing while she listened to her elderly mother tell all the tales she'd heard of Narnia over again, of the rocks and mountains, the streams that ran with Naiads, the trees and their Dryads, and abundant life. A land of miracles, miraculous life. She closed the door on a story about a Naiad bringing water to her grandfather's mansion in a time of human sickness - an outbreak of vomiting and fevers. And the Naiads had brought the purest water, which-

The story ceased with the shutting of the door, and Lucy turned to watch the deck. Most people were below, or in the cabins, packing; the sailors were scurrying all over the deck, and she didn't know how to help them. She went to one cabin, poking her head in, and found an old woman also packing, three little children watching from a bed. It was one of the women who worked with the wounded.

"Queen Lucy! Do you need something, child?"

"No, thank you. I was wondering if I could help?"

"Oh, my thanks, child, but no. I've hands enough if I need them." She nodded her grey-haired head towards the bed. Lucy nodded, and tried the next cabin.

"-don't know what we're supposed to do, a traitor lord and traitor _king_-"

"Hsst!" shushed one of the two women in the woman, nodding towards the door.

"Umm, hello!" Lucy said. Their words made her as uneasy as Lord Miltrel's had, but she didn't know what they were talking about in full, and so maybe she should wait. "Can I help you at all?"

The two women froze, looking towards each other. "We need no help," one of them said at last. She gestured towards the door.

"Your Majesty," the other one added, more kindly. She was the one who had been speaking when Lucy first entered. "Don't mind us, we're just a bit nervous about our new home. Please forgive our rudeness. We're very grateful for all your help; you healed my nephew, my oldest brother's oldest, and I'm thankful for it."

"Oh, I don't mind," Lucy said cheerfully. "Enjoy packing!" She went back out and closed the door. She stood outside it, thinking. No one in the cabins seemed to need her.

She decided to go find Peter. Maybe he needed help.

Peter was at the helm, talking to Robin on his shoulder. Busy again. He would probably be more and more busy, she thought with a sinking feeling. She wanted someone who _wasn't_. Who had time to talk and maybe do something together.

Purpoise, she thought, and went to the side of the ship, where the ladder went down. Sure enough, the turtles were there, and she climbed down, once again carefully, on tiptoes, for rungs placed too far apart for eight-year-old girls, till she was near the water.

"Narnia! Narnia!" squeaked a high voice behind her, and she wrapped one arm around a rung and turned to see Squint sitting on Hardshell. She smiled; he was waving all four flippers so excitedly he was _sure _to fall off.

"We _know_," the old adventurer muttered, but Lucy thought he might be smiling as he pulled himself forward, abreast of the ship.

"They're coming home! We're coming home! Everyone is coming home!" Squint said.

"Say _home_ one more time," Hardshell warned, and Lucy joined in a chorus of laughter; the water was filled with turtles, distinctly large or tiny.

"Squint, on my shell," Parable said, swimming up to them, and Squint rolled himself off, almost into the water, but Parable dived to come up underneath him. "Let's give Hardshell a break, shall we?"

"They all need to grow up a bit," he muttered. "I'm going to scout ahead." Parable watched him go with a wide turtle smile.

"He's been around others too much recently," she said to the girl. "Excuse his behavior, please, Queen Lucy. Is there something we can do for you?"

"I was going to ask if there was something I could do for _you_," Lucy said, and added, "there's nothing for me to do up there."

"Well, I'm not sure there's much you can do for us down here, either," said Parable. "Unless you'd like to take Squint? He's by far the most adventurous of the turtles, and needs the constant presence of an adult, you see," and again her laughter rippled, cutting off when she ducked her head under the waves and came up again.

"Do I count?" Lucy asked. "As an adult," she added. "Because everyone else calls me a child."

"You're older than he is," Parable said, laughing with the turtles. She swam closer. "Here, Queen Lucy," and Lucy stretched out one hand to grab the small slippery shell. She pulled it close, turning it so Squint's head pointed up.

"Aren't you excited to be almost home, Queen Lucy? Are you going to go on more adventures? All of you are going to stay, right? Am I going to stay?"

"No, you are not," said a slow, amused voice. "We are going to see the Narnians home, and then we are going out to the open sea, so you may learn how to live, little one. But this will be something you remember all your long turtle life. All of us will." Purpoise was slowing, falling back from where he'd been swimming ahead. "Good morn, your Majesty."

"Oh, Purpoise, it's good to see you," Lucy said in relief. "I want something to do, and I'm not sure what."

"There are many things you could do, young queen. You can look out at the sea and see it's beauty, or join us in a swim as we carry your forward, or speak with the ones who are not quite sure what to expect from their new home. There are many good things to do."

"I want to do something _useful_, and everyone is too busy right now," Lucy said. She stopped as she noticed Squint's smile fading. "But I'm sure that's just for right now," she added hastily, and Squint smiled up at her.

"I want to do things too," he confided. "But they tell me I'm too small, and I have to wait to get bigger." Lucy smiled; he _was_ too small. Maybe she was too.

"Waiting's hard," she confided back, and he nodded enthusiastically, almost hitting her chest with his head.

"I have to wait _three years_. Then I'll be big enough for _anything_."

"Purpoise," called another slow, deep voice, and a turtle Lucy didn't know swam closer. Some day, Lucy thought, she was going to know the names of _all _the turtles. "We found them, and they are coming," he said. Purpoise nodded.

"It is good," he said. "Give us Squint back, Young Queen, and go back up to your ship's deck. There is a thing coming that you will want to be on deck for." Carefully, Lucy stretched out her hand - Squint was _heavy_ that way - and set him as gently as she could on Purpoise's shell, though he still _thunked_ a bit. "Goodbye for now, Young Queen," Purpoise said as she began to climb up.

"Goodbye!" she called back, and went up, and up, and then pulled herself on the deck and went to Peter. Just being around him made her feel safer. He had just launched Robin into the air, and both rulers turned towards the shore that was getting closer swiftly. It stretched across one horizon, and Lucy could see parts of it rising from the sea. It was kind of like the cliffs in Galma, she mused, and she hoped it made the new Narnians feel more at home. But she couldn't quite see Cair Paravel's outline yet.

"All right, Lu?" asked Peter beside her. She leaned against him.

"Purpoise said someone was coming, and I should be up here."

"Something dangerous?" Peter's voice deepened, his other hand reaching for his sword.

"I don't _think_ so," Lucy said honestly. "Purpoise wasn't worried," and Peter relaxed.

"I wonder what it is," he said. Lucy looked at him; he still looked tired.

"Guess," she suggested, hoping to make him laugh.

He thought for a moment. "An army of Marshwiggles," he suggested, "coming to make sure Dourfog makes it home, and predicting he won't all the way."

Lucy laughed. "A flight of Narnian Talking Birds," she said, "singing 'Welcome home!' and sent by Susan and Edmund."

Peter smiled. "Centaurs running on water with magic metal shoes," he said, grinning. "Orieus at their head, demanding to know if we've hurt ourselves."

"Moles digging tunnels under the sea and riding the turtles when they pop out underneath us," Lucy suggested.

"Edmund standing on a swimming Mr. and Mrs. Beaver," and Lucy doubled over laughing, picturing it, and Peter joining her. Laughing, eyes on the water, she suddenly glimpsed a quick, graceful movement out of the corner of her eye, and turned towards it. It was a flippered tail, splashing the water as the owner dived, an owner with two pale arms -

"Look, Peter, it's a mermaid!" Peter crowded closer to the rail, and Lucy climbed on the bottom rung to peer over, Peter's hand on her shoulder to steady her.

"Lucy, it's the mer_folk_!"

It was. From every direction, swimming closer, dodging between the flippers and shells of the turtle escort, the merfolk were surrounding the ship, most with their heads under the water. On a signal Lucy could not hear all of them rose.

And they began to sing. The haunting melody, as strong as an undercurrent, building like a wave reaching for the shore, and filled with a joy that made Lucy tremble, the merfolk were singing. Cabin doors opened, the sailors ceased their work, and then the ship was still as the merfolk sang.

They sang of homecoming. Of the pale shores and clear waters that waited, of the kings and queens that ruled from Cair Paravel. Of the ice that melted after a hundred years, and the summer that waited. Of home.

Of Narnia.

Lucy was crying, looking towards her home. Oh Aslan, they'd been given such a gift. The merfolk who had mourned the Exiles leaving sang them to shore for the next hour, only disappearing when the ship was close enough to the shore it must weigh anchor. As the song ended and the merfolk vanished beneath the waves, the men stirred. They did their jobs in quiet movements, with no talk; none wanted to break the spell of the merfolk's music, and the rest of the Narnians looked with hunger and wonder towards the forested shore they could see, so close, with a crowd of creatures waiting. They too were quiet.

But something thumped against the side of the ship, and the spell broke. Peter looked over the side, and began grinning and waving. Lucy looked as well; rafts.

Thirty or more rafts, manned by Marshwiggles, Beavers, a few Talking Mice, Dwarves, shimmering Naiads, tall slender Dryads, and a few other creatures with hands or paws to handle paddles, surrounded the ship.

"We're waiting for ye, yer Majesty!" said a Red Dwarf with a thick accent, and Peter laughed.

"'Tis a good welcome home, cousin! We'll start coming down!" He held out his hand to Lucy. "Ready to go home?"

"_Yes_," Lucy said, taking his hand. The two of them went to the opening in the rail together, and Peter went down the ladder first, placing Lucy's feet on the rungs as they went. The closest raft, Lucy was delighted to see, was handled by the Beavers. Mr. Beaver currently had his head a few inches above the water, talking to Purpoise.

"And welcome back, my dears!" Mrs. Beaver said as Peter's feet landed on the raft.

"It's right good to see back where you belong," said Mr. Beaver, getting up. Lucy ran to give them a hug the instant Peter lifted her down, rocking the raft. They felt like _home_. "Now then, who's next?" Mr. Beaver asked, looking towards the ladder. "We can hold at least four more, without swamping. Great fun your siblings had, too, testing it out. They thought about declaring a public Water Day, but it wasn't needed. Narnia came to have fun without a public announcement; would have been a waste of time, I say." Perelandra, climbing down the ladder, nearly lost her hold when she heard him speaking, but regained it with the instinct of the sea-born sailors. She landed on the raft, slightly flushed, Peridan, Lord Perecus, and a neighbor of theirs following quickly. Once they were on the raft, the Beavers pushed away from the ship and started steering towards shore with their tails.

There was a slightly awkward silence.

"You don't use paddles to steer?" Lord Peredus inquired politely. He and his family couldn't seem to take their eyes off their hosts.

Mr. Beaver snorted, and his wife answered, "Aslan created us with built in paddles, and we're much more used to using them, so no, dear, we thought it'd be rather a waste."

"Oh. That's - that's very good, then."

"Are you all right, dear? You look a little white. I can get you some nice fresh fish, if you like, and we could cook it on the shore once we get there."

"Forgive me-" he paused.

"Mrs. Beaver," Lucy supplied, reaching out to touch Mrs. Beaver's shoulder. "They welcomed us to Narnia the first time we all came together."

"Forgive me, Mrs. Beaver, I'm afraid Narnia will be a bit of a shock to us, who haven't been here before. We've heard stories - so many stories - but it's not quite like the real thing."

"Well, it's changed in a hundred years!" Mr. Beaver pointed out.

"And don't worry, dear. Most people Aslan sends to live here feel at home quite soon."

"It took Lucy less than an hour," Peter said, eyes twinkling. "And the rest of us it just took a little bit of time in the Beavers' lovely dam." Mr. Beaver looked rather proud of Peter's description.

They reached the crowded, cheering shore, and Susan was waiting. Susan, bossy, beautiful, mothering, _family_. Lucy and Peter both ran forward, swamping their sister in a hug.

"Where's Edmund?" Lucy asked, looking around without letting go of Susan's waist. She didn't see him in the crowd.

"He's not able to be here - he went further north, the Dryads asked him to settle a dispute about the boundaries of their forest they'd been having with the Centaurs. They trusted his judgement." Lucy buried her face in Susan's waist, not wanting to show how disappointed she was. She'd missed her family so much.

"Susan, this is Lord Perecus, one of the seven lords from the island, his daughter Perelandra, who helped Lucy cause an avalanche that sank several pirate ships, and his son Peridan, who saved Lucy's life during a fight we had aboard ship. This is my sister, Queen Susan." Susan curtsied, that gentle grace once again as evident as sunlight on a clear morning, and the others responded.

"Here, let me help you get settled. Willowduck, would you show them the way? Trumplit, Kinder, would you help carry their luggage? Cair Paravel is up that path, and they'll see you settled. Robin let me know how many to expect, so I think we have food for everyone," Susan added as an aside to Peter. The four bowed, the two dwarfs taking their bags, and Lucy saw some of their shock melt away under Susan's welcome.

She saw it happen again and again, as the three stayed on shore and welcomed all the long-lost Exiles, the turtles splashing in the water around the rafts, and the Narnians a busy, cheerful crowd, greeting each one as they came and leading them up to Cair. It was, Lucy thought, a Narnian sort of homecoming.

The last sailor came ashore, the ship anchored in the harbor, and the remaining Narnians headed up to Cair as the turtles settled onto the beach. Lucy, with her brother and sister, turned their steps there as well.

_Home_, Lucy thought, thinking of her bedroom with its open windows and comfortable bed. With the view of the sun. _Home for all of us_. But as they climbed up the path, she also wondered, _Home - but what now?_

OOOOO

**My apologies for not posting this yesterday. I found I had things scheduled from 6:30am to 9:00pm, and one of those was teaching a Bible Study where we got through two paragraphs because the discussion became intense...and as the teacher it meant I hadn't much brain left. My apologies for being late!**


	26. Chapter 25 Royalty in Council

**Chapter 10+10+5: Royalty in Council**

**Disclaimer: It's the twenty-fifth chapter. Have you see **_**Big Hero Six**_**? I feel like I'm in the video Baymax shows Hiro, where Tadashi says, "it's the eighty-fourth test." This is my twenty-fifth disclaimer on this story alone, and I'm rather certain that's enough. But, for the sake of rules: I don't own Narnia or anything that belongs with it. Truly. I've said it over a hundred and fifteen times by now, in as many ways as I can think of. It's not mine. Is there anyone who thought it was?**

**Beta'd by trustingHim17, so any mistakes left are entirely my own fault.**

OOOOO

Susan was the perfect hostess once they got back, going from group to group, welcoming them, making sure they had rooms, leading the entire group to Cair Paravel's banquet hall, Peter escorting her in, and sitting to look fondly at the tables spread down the hall, each with the perfect mix of old Narnians and returning ones. Her beauty of body and spirit caused each person look at her, trust her, listen to her, and feel honored by her notice.

Lucy was very glad Susan was taking the lead, because then (between Susan and the new Narnians) everyone was occupied, and all the attention stayed off Lucy, and she was _tired_. She leaned her head on her arm, watching the hall, her eyes almost closing.

"Lucy," whispered her oldest brother's voice behind her, and she opened her eyes with a start.

"Peter?" she asked sleepily. The feast was still happening, the banquet hall filled with laughter and conversation and the rumbles, chirps, and growls Talking Animals made in their conversation, and she hadn't had dessert yet. Why was Peter up?

"Lucy, I need you and Susan. Can you go up to my room? Mrs. Beaver said she'll handle sending people off to bed, and Mr. Beaver said 'the new 'uns had better get used to us disappearing to spend time with each now as later,' so that's all right. But I need to talk to you all before Edmund gets back."

Lucy stood, quietly pushing back her chair, and shook her head to wake herself all the way up. If it had to do with Edmund, she'd better be wide awake. She flitted to the wall - fewer people noticed when she walked along the edge. But then she grinned; there was a way that she could be much more invisible (and have much more fun). She scooted to where a long table rested one side against the wall and quickly lifted the tablecloth and ducked under. Once underneath she ran down the length of it, bent over, carefully avoiding legs, paws, and fur. Reaching the end, she ducked out from under it, smiled at the startled Deer standing just to one side, said "Excuse me!" and was off again.

It was good to be back at Cair, she decided. There's no place like home (1).

Up the stairs, through a hallway, another hallway, another set of stairs - she forgot how _far_ Peter's room was. The ship was much smaller, but not quite as much fun. That open doorway, that oak door, then the next, then there! Peter's room!

Lucy went inside. It was a mess. Peter may be High King Peter, but tidy he was not. There were papers all over the desk on one wall (and a few piles on the floor, where he'd dropped them while sitting on his chair), and a few piles of his things on the floor. The dresser on the far wall was painfully neat, and Lucy guessed he gave permission to the servants to clean that. His bed, made just the right size for a boy-king, was covered with a deep red blanket. Lucy sat on it and deliberately _bounced_, pushing off with her feet and rear. She went satisfyingly high. She needed to get Squint up here and bounce him. He would love it. She bounced again, feet pushing hard off the floor; the dwarven-made-bed wouldn't break, she was sure, and she bounced _harder_.

"Home less than a day and already bouncing on a bed," said a gentle, amused voice from the door, and Lucy turned to see Susan in the doorway, trying to frown around her smile. "And not even your own bed at that, Lucy!"

"Come join me," Lucy said impulsively, holding out her hand to Susan. "It's great fun. I bet you could go _really_ _high_," she added when Susan hesitated. "You could _fly_." Susan grinned and ran for the bed, jumping onto it and sending Lucy and herself soaring. Lucy cleared the top of the bedrails, hair flying around her and the wind catching it for one instant before she fell once again. "Do it again!" Lucy cried as she bounced back down, and Susan got to her feet and jumped, catching Lucy's hands and pulling her up till the two of them jumped together, Susan's hands pulling Lucy higher and higher and higher as the bed creaked.

"This is a nice welcome home!" said Peter's voice from the doorway. "I come home ready for my fluffy, soft, well-made bed, and what do I get?" Lucy and Susan had stopped bouncing, turning guiltily towards him. "Two sisters who take it for themselves, to bounce on! I'll show them!" And Peter sped forward, long legs running, and launched himself at his sisters, tackling them both down onto the bed and bouncing them into himself and each other, over and over while all three laughed. Lucy lost control of her limbs, she was laughing so hard. Her head hit Peter's shoulder, her hand brushed Susan's head, and her brother bounced harder than ever.

"Enough, Peter, enough!" Susan cried. "Enough bouncing, the bed mightn't take much more." The three lay there, catching their breath. "Why did you call us up here Peter?" asked Susan presently.

The laughter died in Peter's face, and he sat up. "We've a problem on our hands, Su, and I'm not sure how to handle it." He took a deep breath and outlined the two attacks of the pirates, the accusation by the pirate captain, Lord Timoth's confession, and the demands of those on board. Last, he told her about the current imprisonment of Lord Timoth. "I left him on board the ship," Peter admitted. "It would have been too easy for someone to do something unpleasant to him in the bustle of everyone coming ashore."

"Oh Peter, do you think anyone would?" asked Lucy, shuddering at the idea of hurting such a broken person.

"I know they would," Peter said grimly. "I don't know what all you did on board, Lucy, but Lord Miltrel - he's the fair-haired one with the sharp nose, Su, who looks like he's just tasted decayed war rations - he came to me, before the banquet started tonight, and told me that he'd been getting several of them together to have their own trial - and execution. He changed his mind, because of something Lu said-"

"It was Purpoise more than me," Lucy interjected.

"-And he tried to put a stop to it, but, well, they've got the idea in their heads. They're keeping it, and even Lord Miltrel can't change their minds. He's willing to give us a chance now and see if we play favourites or if we'll actually deal out justice, and so he told me. I sent Dourfog and two of his Marshwiggle friends back to guard the cabin, just in case. He knows what to look for. He'll have the turtles with him, too - Purpoise said they'd keep watch for us, he's a good fellow. And Dourfog said he never really expected to be able to taste the homecoming feast anyway, and didn't mind," Peter said, trying to lighten the moment, but his hands still gripped the red coverlet.

"Oh, Peter, I hope you sent something out to them," Susan said, and Peter nodded.

"Some of the Mice took it out, and I made sure it wasn't Mice-sized portions, Su, so don't worry. They got some of the feast. But in the meantime we need to hold a trial - Lucy said it should be by the shore, and I agree, since the Turtles need to see justice as well - and…" he trailed off.

"What is it, Peter? You've got the most awful look on your face," Lucy said (2).

"Like you've eaten those decayed rations yourself," Susan agreed. She laid her hand on her brother's shoulder. "Tell us, Peter."

"Lord Miltrel said the group was made for another reason," Peter said. He picked at the fluff on the blanket. "They're worried about Edmund."

"Edmund?" Susan and Lucy chorused together in surprise, and Peter nodded, looking up at each of them in turn.

"They're ready to remove him from being king if they think he's unfit for it," Peter said softly. So very, very softly, the stillness of a snake before it strikes.

"Let them _try_," Lucy said, eyes sparking defensive fury. "Aslan made him king, and we won't let them!"

"No, we won't," said Susan, but her voice was thoughtful, and both siblings glanced her way. She noticed. "We cannot spend all our days fighting them either," she pointed out. "We will do whatever we must, and Edmund will always be Narnia's King - Aslan said so. But to be a good king we must - Ed must - gain the loyalty of our subjects. It can't be forced for long."

"I would rather argue that our subjects are _too_ loyal," said a tired voice from the door, and for the third time that evening Lucy looked and saw a sibling in the doorway.

"Edmund!" She launched herself from the bed and ran to hug him, reveling in the arms that hugged her back. She'd gone without Edmund's hugs long enough she loved every time she got one. "Edmund, you're back!"

"_You're_ back," he shot back, still holding her. He squeezed, then let her go, moving to his older siblings, Lucy's hand still in his. "Hullo, Peter, Susan. Our oh-so-loyal subjects want us to settle every little thing for them; I could do with a bit of disloyalty right now." He waited, but nobody laughed. "Did something happen?" he asked more quietly.

No one said anything for a moment. "Sit down, Ed," Susan said, reaching a gentle hand out to her brother and guiding him to sink onto the bed with the rest of them. "Have you had something to eat?"

Edmund grimaced. "Mrs. Beaver is worse about that than you are, and she caught me on the way in. Don't worry, Su, really. Now what's going on?"

"Well, there's a traitor," Lucy said at the time Peter answered "It's the Exiles." Edmund raised an eyebrow.

"_Someone_ start at the beginning," he said in an exasperated tone. Peter did, once again, and when he finished Edmund sat back, staring at the ceiling.

"Edmund?" Lucy asked, meaning _what is that look on your face?_

"Another traitor," Edmund said in a low voice, not looking at any of them.

"Edmund, you're not-" Susan began, but broke off when Edmund looked at her.

"I am what I am, Su. I'm forgiven, but it happened, and Narnians know it." His eyes flickered down to the bed. "Names like that don't go away. Doubts either. Wouldn't you have some?"

"Then we address those doubts," Peter said firmly. "Because no one has the right to question Aslan's judgement, or your forgiveness. And we don't, Edmund. We know Aslan forgave you, and we did too."

"But Timoth won't have that," Edmund said, voice once again low. He ran his fingers over the red blanket slowly, watching the lines they left behind, then wiping them away. "I never thought before, how impossible it would be to know I am forgiven without Aslan's word. But Timoth might not have that, Peter. Aslan's not a tame lion (3). We're going to have to be that to him, show him Aslan. That might be one of the reasons Aslan let a traitor be a king to begin with." Edmund's voice was equal parts pain and determination, and Lucy crawled over to hug his waist again, laying her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her absently. Susan and Peter watched him carefully.

"I need to be the one to go get him, Peter," Edmund said suddenly. He met his brother's eyes, determined. Peter nodded slowly.

"Very well," he said. "Early tomorrow morning."

"Before the rest know their way around Cair," Edmund agreed. "I'll put him somewhere they can't find him, just in case."

"And you'll take a guard with you to the ship," Peter said. "I'm not letting you argue that one, Ed," he added when Edmund opened his mouth.

"Fine," Edmund grumbled. "I'll take the two Panther twins and a Wolf with me, no one would argue with them." Peter looked satisfied, and the four sat in silence. Lucy fought a yawn.

"Well, it's time for bed," Peter said, rousing himself, and Lucy lifted her head from Edmund's shoulder and frowned. Peter's tone had sounded a little forcedly cheery.

"All right, Peter, out with it," Edmnd commanded before Lucy could say anything. Susan had glanced at Peter as well. "There's more, isn't there."

"There's not," Peter protested, but Edmund wasn't having it.

"There is."

"There's not."

"There is."

"You are annoying," Peter said, glaring at Edmund, but Edmund just glared back. Lucy decided to join the fight (she wasn't called the Valiant for nothing), and Susan too was frowning at Peter. He looked at the other three and surrendered. "There's nothing more about the situation," he said stubbornly. "But…"

"We're listening, Peter," Susan said.

"Could I have stopped this?" Peter asked. He looked from one to the other, to the third. "I kept thinking, the whole trip, that I should have done better. I got Lucy in a shipwreck, we were put on trial, she fell down a mountain while out-rolling an avalanche, climbed back up it to start another, and then there was the whole battle with the pirates." Peter sighed. "We lost people there. And Timoth was traitor. Purpoise told me to leave people in Aslan's paws and let them take their own risks, but I look at the chaos, the wreckage," he reached out and gently turned over Lucy's wrist, lightly touching a fading bruise there, and she blushed, a little more awake, "and the bruises, and I wonder - why did Aslan make me king? _High_ King?" His hand on the bed tightened into a fist. "Now we've a traitor to deal with, and I wonder if we got there sooner, would it have made a difference?"

"Lucy did _what_ now?" Susan asked, shocked, and Lucy burrowed her head in Edmund's side. Peter had left a lot of that out of the story he told about Timoth. "An ava- no, never mind. Peter, Timoth may have been a traitor long before you came, before we even came to Narnia. And his actions are not your fault."

"Not any more than mine were," Edmund added quietly. "Less, actually." He shoved his brother with his foot until Peter looked at him. "If I am Aslan's king, so are you."

"Always," Peter said at last. "Once a king or queen, always a king or queen" (4). He smiled ruefully. "What was that about not second-guessing His judgement?" The four broke into laughter, and when it ended Lucy laid her head back and closed her eyes, contented.

This, this was home. This was what she'd wanted. This is what she wanted to offer the other Narnians. This is what Timoth still needed.

"It is time for bed," said Susan's voice, and Lucy whole-heartedly agreed. But not yet. She was too tired to move. "Lucy," Susan said, and a hand shook her arm. Lucy frowned and turned on her side. No. She wasn't moving yet.

"She's almost asleep," Peter said. "Here, Su, let me carry her."

"Put her in my room," Susan said softly. "I think she'll sleep there best tonight."

Lucy couldn't agree more.

OOOOO

(1) Quite obviously not mine, and if you don't recognise it, you need to read Frank L Baum's entire series. My favorites would be _Ozma of Oz_ and _Glinda of Oz_.  
(2) Recognise this quote?  
(3) Said over and over in _The Last Battle_, said once in _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_, and possibly in other places I don't remember.  
(4) Aslan's words, not mine.


	27. Chapter 26 Timoth's Confession

**Chapter 26: Timoth's Story**

**Disclaimer: Truthfulness on trial / says without beguile, / "Narnia is not and will never be hers, / so leave her in peace to write, good sirs."**

**A/N: ****lbernstiennm and I worked together on the**** story of Timoth's betrayal, and, more importantly, the **_**why**_** behind it. I hope I do justice to the ideas we discussed. She also came up with the ideas in Purpoise's conversation and helped with Lucy's reaction near the end. In other, shorter, words, she's invaluable. trustingHim17 also beta'd the chapter, and therefore has my thanks for making sure the errors are kept to an absolute minimum, and the reading much more pleasant!**

OOOOO

It was decided that Lucy and Edmund would go together to get Lord Timoth. Lucy was not awake when this was decided, mind, but as the other three thought it was a good idea, and Edmund thought she could help Lord Timoth, she rolled out of Susan's bed willingly just as the sun just peeked above the horizon. Within minutes she was walking with Edmund and the three guards to the shore.

Edmund was going to take a raft - he was as skilled with paddling as Peter by now - but Lucy stopped him, peering at the ocean.

"I say, Ed, can we go by Turtle instead?"

Edmund looked out at the sea and the hundred or so shells floating in it, and back at Lucy. "I think our three guards might object to that, Lucy." He looked at the Black Panther standing by his side, twitching its tail.

"Whatever your Majesty thinks best," the Panther Salyte responded, not looking away from the sea. Lucy almost giggled at the disdain on his face that he was trying so hard to hide at the idea of standing on a curved, moving shell. His mouth curled down in a cat-frown, but the corners were trying to draw themselves up in a smile.

"I think the raft would be best," she said to Edmund. She hadn't thought about a Wolf or either Panther trying to balance on Turtle shells, but she didn't think the Wolf or either of the Panthers would be happy about it by the end.

Possibly not the Turtles either.

Though Ferela the Wolf would actually do it, and do so in a single heartbeat if she scented the least hint of danger to those she guarded. She'd been a surprise - a Wolf who stood and snarled in the mouth of a cave as the four Centaurs guards and Susan rode past it. She'd accused Susan of taking her litter of four and killing her mate. She stood ready to fight four Centaurs, even while she trembled with weakness, thinned down til bones showed through her fur, starved because she'd been in hiding. Susan, bewildered, finally realised the Wolf had mistaken her for the White Witch, and allowed the Wolf to smell her quite-human arm. Ferela had not been truly convinced until she came to Cair Paravel and met the other three, but once she had, she adopted them in place of the four lost cubs the White Witch had taken and was one of their most loyal guards. Ferela together with the two Panthers formed one of the fastest and most intimidating trios of guards. Right now Salyte the Panther was leading the way towards a specific part of the beach.

There were over thirty rafts beached on the shore, placed along the trees, and all in one place. (Lucy guessed that Susan had a hand in making sure it was so tidy.) Edmund went to one and took a rope attached to one side; Lucy grabbed another, and the Wolf grabbed the third between her teeth (1). Together they dragged the raft into the water.

Edmund held it close to the shore and held his hand out to help Lucy on without getting wet; then he pulled it a little farther out, placed both hands to hold it steady, and nodded to the guards. Ferela gathered herself and jumped, springing into the air and over the water, landing on the middle of the raft and rocking it. Lucy fell down with a quiet squeak. Ferela shook herself and moved to the opposite side of the queen, distributing the weight. The Panthers jumped with less preparation and more grace, barely moving the raft when they landed on their quiet cat paws. Edmund pulled it out a little farther - the bottom dragging on the sand under the weight - and once it was floating he climbed board. Lucy stayed seated, looking towards the ship.

"You all right, Lu?"

"I don't know what to say to Lord Timoth," she admitted.

"I'm pretty sure that's because we don't know what Lord Timoth will say to us," Edmund said with one strong stroke of the paddle, pulling it up for another.

"Oh," she said quietly. She felt Edmund's eyes on her, but didn't turn around. She was thinking, but it wasn't helping. All she could think was that she didn't know what to say. She could always give Edmund a hug, and that made things better. But she didn't know if Lord Timoth liked hugs or not.

Edmund continued paddling, pushing them farther and farther from the shore, but Lucy noticed they seemed to be veering off a bit.

"Edmund, the ship's right there," she said, pointing.

"We're making a short stop first," he said, slowing the raft. It bobbed up and down on the waves, and Lucy looked around. "I thought you could use the company."

"Queen Lucy! Queen Lucy!" called a high, excited voice, and she looked the other direction to see four familiar Turtles coming closer, three swimming, and Squint perched on top of one (2). "And you're the Other King!" said the voice, as Squint's little head swung to look up at Edmund. Edmund smiled.

"Yes, I'm the Other King," he said. "Good morning to you, good cousins."

Squint giggled. "I like being a cousin to a king," he told Edmund.

"I like being brother to a king," Edmund replied, still smiling. "Purpoise, good morning."

"Good morning, Aslan's Judge," said the slow voice that loosened the tension in Lucy's shoulders. The old turtle swam slowly around the raft, and around it again, Parable and Squint swimming with him while Hardshell watched the three.

"What are you doing?" Lucy asked presently.

"Thinking, Young Queen," said the deep voice.

"About what?" asked Lucy, curious.

"About the man locked in the ship," said Purpoise.

"And?"

"And I am thinking about him."

"_What_ are you thinking about him?" Lucy asked impatiently. Her head swiveled, watching the turtle swim round and round. Purpoise continued in his circle without pausing.

"Peace, Young Queen. Sometimes thoughts must be collected from the waves before they are whole enough to make something that floats."

Lucy sat, and tried not to be impatient anymore. She hadn't heard Purpoise use that tone since they'd gone on their adventure; but then, things had happened so quickly she'd been glad of a little peace.

Only she wanted that peace _now_, too, and Purpoise was going so slowly. Turtle-slowly.

"Squint and the others told us what the pirate called across the deck," Purpoise said at last. "That the young man had traded the things man treasures in exchange for lives." He slowed his circles still further. "Aslan's Judge, judge this. Would you object to trading the food in your home for my life, or the lives beside you?"

"Of course not!" Edmund responded, startled.

"Would you blame another who did? A man older than you, and a Lord, and one with many to keep safe?"

Edmund calmed. "I would not fault him for trading such a thing to raiders in his home, or in his town. But making an alliance with evil, and then lying about it, those are different. I have known what it is to betray a trust, and I see it again in Timoth's actions. He parlayed with evil and bowed to its power. He did so without the knowledge or consent of those his actions affected, and he did so willfully and continually." Edmund paused. Lucy frowned for a moment, going over some of the words Edmund used. When had he learned those? "Do you disagree, good cousin?" he asked gravely, secure in his own words but waiting to hear advice.

"I do not, Aslan's Judge. It is well spoken." Purpoise turned himself to face his king. "His betrayal of that trust made the hurt of many possible. My own kind, who were innocent, were caught up in his struggle, possibly made known to the pirates by him. Your own people were wounded to the heart by one they trusted, and will find it harder to trust others, including yourself, Aslan's Judge. It has damaged their ability to trust, even one Aslan has named. It damaged their trust in Aslan." Lucy's heart hurt with the thought. _Aslan_ was always trustworthy. "If those who act in His name bargain with evil, they will wonder if Aslan Himself does." Purpoise paused. "You know that lesson already, Aslan's Judge, and it is good. But I would have you learn another." Edmund raised an eyebrow and waited. "You are patient. It is good in a king. Or queen," Purpoise said with a smile to Lucy as he passed in front of her. "It was not good for this man to work with pirates, though he spared lives in doing so. But there _is_ a time, Aslan's Judge, to bargain. It will take another kind of wisdom to do so. I remember both the courage of King Dwarfsteel and the timidity of this man. One shrinks from opposition in terror, but I also remember the way King Dwarfsteel would not listen. Remember as you rule that there are times for words and there are times for battles." King Edmund nodded, listening, Lucy listening too. She thought she would be more prone towards the battles. It seemed like a more straightforward way of settling things. And if she had the cordial, no one would die. "The man imprisoned spoke when he should have fought. But now that time is past; now, King Edmund, is a time for words and not for a battle. Do not go as the good King Dwarfsteel would, when you speak to that young man. Go as one ready to listen."

There was a moment of silence as Purpoise finished. Then, "I'm learning to listen!" Squint piped up, and the Turtles and humans laughed, Ferela and both Panthers laughing their purring sounds or growls.

"I take your words to heart, good cousin," Edmund said, bowing, and as Lucy watched a calm settled over him. Purpoise was a marvel, she thought. She was so _glad_ Aslan sent him to Narnia.

"Off to the ship?" she asked Edmund, and he dipped his paddle in the water. "Goodbye Purpoise, Parable, Hardshell, Squint!" she called, waving, and the Turtles called back a farewell.

It took little time to get to the ship, though they discovered that Ferela could not climb it easily, if at all. The Panthers took it in easy jumps from metal rung to metal rung, but Ferela, scowling, consented to stay below.

"We're under attack," said a gloomy voice as the Panthers appeared, far outstripping the two children. "We'll all die now, I should think." Dourfog sounded almost happy about his impending doom.

"Salyte and Sethen, you're forbidden to kill the Marshwiggles," Edmund said, his head popping above the deck, and Lucy giggled again, though part of it stemmed from nervousness.

"Battle averted," Dourfog said, sounding gloomier than ever. Lucy ran and gave him a hug.

"Did you sleep well, Dourfog?"

"Except the time I thought the ship was leaking. Or that the wind was blowing the mast over. I thought it started to tip."

"Or when the wind moaned and we thought it was a Sea Serpent," added another Marshwiggle in an even gloomier tone.

"Or when we thought the lantern started a fire," the third reminded them, in the gloomiest tone of all.

"I'm quite glad none of those awful things happened," Edmund said, and the three looked at him as if he was mad. "Is Lord Timoth still in his cabin?"

"Refuses to come out," Dourfog said. "He's convinced someone is going to kill him, he says it every time we offer. He'd make a good Marshwiggle, he would. Full of the seriousness of life."

"Then perhaps we'd better go and convince him otherwise," Edmund said, losing the laughter in his face. Dourfog bowed and led the way, opening the cabin door.

Lucy took a deep breath. It was time. The door opened to an unlit cabin with the shades drawn.

"Queen Lucy and King Edmund," Dourfog announced to the darkness inside.

"You're the one," a voice breathed as they entered, and the two turned to see Lord Timoth scramble to his feet, eyes fixed on Edmund. "You're the one! The one the King said was also a traitor!"

"I am," Edmund replied, eyes watchful.

"Why did you do it?" Lord Timoth asked eagerly. He took one step forward, still looking only to Edmund. "Why? For your siblings' safety? For an advantage in battle? What made you turn?"

Edmund's face hardened. "A box of sweeties," he said abruptly. Lucy's heart clenched. Of all the reasons - it just seemed like such an awful thing when said that way.

Lord Timoth took a step back. "For - food?" He slid back to the floor, hands limp. "For a box of sweets?"

"It was enchanted sweets," Lucy said timidly. Maybe it would make him feel better - if only she knew what was wrong.

But Lord Timoth laughed painfully. "So you have enchantment as your excuse," he said when he stopped. The bitterness in his tone ate away at Lucy's heart. "I have no such reason." He lowered his head to rest on his knees.

"What is your reason?" Edmund asked carefully.

"My brother Rodger," Lord Timoth said, voice muffled in his knees. That bitter laugh came again. "He would hate being the reason. He was like your brother, Traitor King. Brave and gold and larger than life itself. He led and I followed, and on day he led right into battle, and that day-" Timoth paused. "That day he came back so badly wounded I was sure he wouldn't make it. And the first thing he did, when he was well enough he woke? He asked if we won, and when the next battle would be. The stupid idiot."

"So you decided to help the ones who wounded him?" Edmund's voice was carefully devoid of judgement.

"Not them, _us!_ I went to the Lords first and demanded they do something - win or negotiate, I didn't care, so long as the war stopped." His voice caught. "So long as Rodger and the rest of our family never had to fight again. But the Lords didn't do anything, nothing that helped, and a month later our father - my adopted father, Rodger's father, died. And I'd had enough." His fingers clutched his legs tighter beneath his head. "I'd had more than enough."

"So you went to the pirates."

"I offered them a trade," Lord Timoth said, no regret in his voice. "I'd let them know when to raid, when the boats were left unguarded, and they'd raid then, with no casualties. No fighting. No more wounds, or screams, or dying brothers and crying mothers. Just peace." He lifted his head and looked at the two. "All I wanted was peace."

"Did you actions end in peace?" Edmund asked softly. Lord Timoth looked up and glared.

"Your brother and sister were supposed to bring peace!" His voice rose. "It would have solved everything if we'd just left! But no, the lords had to delay, and we fought, and more people died, and everyone found out and they call me traitor! I'm not! I tried to _save_ us! That's what a Lord is supposedto do, and I was going to be the one who saved everybody, and my adopted family would be so proud, and, and - it would have _worked_, if we'd just left!" He shut his eyes. "We should have just left. I should have said we had to leave. But I thought the lords would see that on their own, and I wasn't sure Rodger was going. Rodger," he said, beginning to cry, "why did you have to be so stubborn? We should have left! You'd be alive if we'd just _left! _I'd never had had to go meet the pirates that last time if we'd just _left_."

"And when you went to meet them?" Edmund spoke in that same calm voice, and Lucy pressed closer to him. She didn't know how he could talk like that when some things Lord Timoth said were wrong and she didn't know if they should tell him what was true or tell him sorry because he was hurting.

"They'd been demanding more and more for a long time," Lord Timoth said, gulping, trying to stop crying. "I'd started putting extra food or trinkets or things like that in the boats - Rodger is - no, he's not, he's not, he only _was_, he - he's the only family I'd left, and he never noticed if something went missing. He was oblivious like that, always out helping someone else," and Lord Timoth smiled in a way that looked like it hurt, and Lucy took Edmund's hand. "I could take what I liked, and I did, and it kept them away. But it wasn't enough - they threatened to attack us all out, or if they were in a good mood, just tell the others what I'd been doing. I knew no one would understand I'd been _helping_. But we had a meeting set up that night, and since we didn't leave I had to go, and they'd seen the ship and guessed we were leaving. They wanted so much. Houses and food; they wanted us to leave with just the clothing we were in. I tried to stand my ground. I knew the village would never do it. I asked for time, time to convince the village - they thought I meant to leave things, but I meant to convince them to leave - but they got impatient and attacked anyway. Everything I'd done, all the bargaining, and they just...ignored it. They attacked, and we _won_, and no one died, and then they attacked again, and Rodger-" he couldn't finish.

Edmund patted Lucy's shoulder and gently pushed her away, walking forward to crouch down in front of Lord Timoth. "I sold my family for enchanted sweets," he said quietly. "But that wasn't the fault of the food. I chose to speak with the White Witch, I chose to get on her sleigh, however uncomfortable it made me then, I chose to eat her food. Further past, I chose to be nasty enough to my younger sister she didn't trust me. We're not told what would have happened (3), but there's a chance we would have entered Narnia together, that she'd have asked me to help her check the wardrobe that second time it opened, if I hadn't been so much of a bully. The choices were mine, and enchanted food doesn't excuse them." Lord Timoth was listening, eyes wide, at the boy-King who solemnly spoke his own faults. "It's a choice that leads to betrayal. Sometimes a small one, sometimes a habit. I'm sorry for mine. I wish I'd never made it, but I did. Aslan forgave me for it, and my siblings, and all of Narnia." He paused. "What's yours? The choice you shouldn't have made, whatever your motivations were at the time."

Lord Timoth hesitated, caught between two things. Lucy could see it, the indecision on his face, the wavering - till suddenly the young man shoved Edmund away, sending the king falling back on his rear. "There wasn't one!" He yelled, the cabin filling with the noise, growing louder and louder. "There _wasn't_! I was right! I was saving lives! I was doing what a Lord should! I was saving Rodger! I was, I was, I was-" he broke off as the cabin door opened and a Panther stood silhouetted in the early morning light.

"If that is what you are determined to think," Edmund said calmly from where he was sprawled on the floor, "then I have nothing I can do for you. It's time to take you to Cair Paravel. You will be kept there until your trial, which we will hold as soon as we can. We will not make you wait."

Lord Timoth opened his mouth to object, looked at the Panther - who gave the faintest mixture of a growl and a purr - and closed his mouth again. Edmund stood up, dusting himself off, and held out a hand to Lord Timoth to help him up as well. Lord Timoth looked at the hand of the king he'd just sent sprawling, and then shoved himself up off the floor with both hands, standing back from Edmund. Edmund shrugged and turned to lead the way out.

Dourfog and his friends, standing just outside, bowed as the king came out, Lucy just behind, and followed them to the rail by the ladder. "We heard him, your Majesty," the towering Marshwiggle said gloomily. "It's a bad job, I should think. He shouldn't sail back with you, no. He'd push you overboard, as like as not. And you'd drown, and King Peter would order all the Marshwiggles executed, for it'd be our fault, I should think. No, better let us take him."

"Peter wouldn't do any such thing," Edmund said, but Lucy breathed easier to hear the note of humor in his voice - a well-hidden one, but one that still made his tone less of the flat, calm one that somehow frightened her. "But he's less likely to try to flee you three than a young boy and girl. Take Ferela with you," he said, nodding to the Wolf below, who nodded back - with her Wolf hearing, she caught every word. "I don't think he'll try to escape with her there. We're putting him in the North Tower, the third bedroom from the top. And do try to make sure no one sees you, right, Dourfog?" Dourfog bowed again, and the three went back to the closed cabin door. Edmund climbed down the ladder, Lucy following, and in silence they brought the raft to another raft that was tied to the ship, and Ferela gingerly stepped from one raft to the other, claws digging into the wood when the raft tilted.

"Remind me to be less good at my job, if it brings me to situations like these, your Majesties," she growled. Lucy wasn't sure if she was joking, but Edmund laughed, the clear sound echoing over the sea.

"I'll keep in mind that you don't like water, good cousin, or floating logs." He grinned. "Would you like either of your fellow guards to stay with you?"

"I can handle one lone prisoner," Ferela said, dragging a claw through the top of one log and leaving a deep mark. "I probably won't even have to scare him much," and she gave the other raft a full-toothed grin that would have given Lucy nightmares if she didn't know the Wolf so well. She impulsively jumped from her raft to Ferela's, and gave the wolf a hug around the neck.

"Thank you for making him laugh," she whispered, knowing the Wolf could hear her, and then she ran and jumped to the other raft again.

Edmund rowed back, and Lucy was quiet to let him think. She...she was confused. Timoth was so clearly _lost_, worse than they'd been on the way to Galma. But he'd shoved Edmund. She remembered Edmund, defenses down, allowing it, and even while she was glad her brother wasn't a bully anymore and strong enough to be shoved and not react, she felt angry for him. Why couldn't Timoth see that they were only trying to help?

Or maybe he did see that, she mused. Maybe he just didn't see how much he needed help.

"I'm sorry Lu." Lucy started; Edmund had spoken, his eyes still fixed on Narnia's shore. "I thought bringing you along would be of some help, but I'm sorry you had to see that."

"He shoved you," Lucy said, the anger she felt coloring her tone, and Edmund smiled tiredly.

"It didn't hurt me any. I've done worse to you in the past."

"But that was to _me,_" Lucy protested. "This was worse. You were helping."

"You can't help someone who's not sorry," Edmund said quietly.

"What made you sorry?" Lucy said hesitatingly. She was a little afraid to ask.

But Edmund smiled at her. "Seeing I was wrong. I'd thought the Witch was a queen, and she'd be nice to me. When I saw I was wrong about her, I saw I was wrong about a lot of other things too." He had that look in his eyes that meant he was remembering something. "And then I learned to be sorry for someone besides myself, and that was the beginning of the real change (4)."

"Can we do that for Timoth?"

Edmund shook his head. "It is something Timoth has to do for himself." The raft scraped on the rocks and sand, and Edmund jumped off, grabbing a rope to pull it forward as the Panthers leaped to the dry sand. "Come on, Lu. Let's go home. We need to talk to the others."

Lucy didn't see the Marshwiggles and Ferela bringing back Lord Timoth, because she and her siblings were in a council chamber, working on Narnia's first trial. Susan and Peter had made a public announcement asking Narnians who were not watching the trial to refrain from coming to the beach the next day. Several Narnians would need to move the rafts, and a path would need to be marked out for Timoth to come along, large enough no one could touch him while he was on it. Susan pointed out they'd need four chairs for the four rulers ("we should be in formal robes, too,"), and the prisoner needed a place to stand in front of them.

"Close enough to the water the Turtles can see," Peter reminded the group, and Susan nodded, mapping it in her mind.

"Anything else?" she asked, more quietly than usual.

"Guards," said Peter. "Just in case there are people who aren't...willing to wait for justice."

"And possibly something to control an angry crowd," Edmund pointed out. "There might be quite a few of those people."

"What should we use to deter an angry mob?" Susan asked, and then winced. "I can't believe we're talking about this in Narnia."

"Narnians got hurt," Lucy pointed out somberly. She'd had more time to think about it since the raft, and she'd forgiven Timoth for pushing Edmund. She'd decided to take the lessons she learned about forgiving Edmund when he was bully and use them with all mean people she met, no matter what they did. But she knew that not everybody had practice forgiving being hurt.

"So we need them in place, just in case," Peter said. He ran his fingers through his hair. "Any ideas?"

"Timoth didn't like being stared at by Salyte," Lucy remembered.

"And most Great Cats are usually pretty good about keeping their tempers if they don't get wet," Peter said approvingly. "We'll ask them to stand around Timoth, facing the crowd - giving him space. Anything else?"

"If you want people who don't lose their temper, I'd vote for the dwarfs," Edmund interjected. "They're known for being stubbornly immovable, no matter what the crowd might think to do. They'd stand fast, if we get the more laidback ones, or the ones who 'uphold the Rule of Law at all costs, your Majesties, the Rule of Law,'" Edmund said dryly, imitating the fusty old dwarf they'd all heard in Cair Paravel's library.

"Good," Peter said. "You'll ask them, Ed? I'll tell Timoth what to expect." He paused. "Lucy, please ask the Great Cats to help guard? Su, you'll arrange the chairs and path?" His siblings nodded, and he drew himself up. "Then we'll have the trial tomorrow."

OOOOO

(1) According to Rudyard Kipling, a wolf can hold an egg in his teeth without breaking it, so I'm assuming a Talking Wolf can pull on a rope without snapping it.  
(2)I should probably clarify, I am not aware of older turtles carrying baby turtles on their shells as a real habit, but I like the practice, so I decided talking Turtles do so when the baby is as adventurous as Squint, because it allows them to know where he is, and that he hasn't found something curious and gone off after it without regard for his own safety.  
(3) to paraphrase Aslan  
(4) I don't have my book with me so I can't quote this word-for-word, but Lewis does actually state this, after the feasting group of animals is turned to stone. Lewis notes it is the first time Edmund feels sorry for someone besides himself.


	28. Chapter 27 The Trial of a Traitor

**Chapter 27: Trial of a Traitor**

**Disclaimer: There's much in this that wasn't even written by me. You'll see what I mean in the author's note. Or sooner, if you recognise it. **

OOOOO

They held the trial after breakfast. Susan made sure everyone (including Timoth, still locked in his tower) had enough to eat, and then the Exiles, many Narnians, and the selected guards trickled down to the beach. As a formal occasion, the Four were to be announced and then seat themselves. They stood in the forest, Lucy fighting not to fidget in her formal, comfortable dress (for in Narnia, your formal clothes are never your uncomfortable ones (1)). She didn't think this would be a part of ruling she liked.

She kept twisting her fingers in her skirt and wondering what Aslan would do. _Aslan, help us_, she asked silently. _I don't think we can do this. I think You have to_. She wove the smooth material through her fingers again, and felt Susan reach down and take her hand. She looked up at her beautiful, outwardly-calm older sister. Even in a forest, Susan looked serene and regal. It really wasn't fair.

Trumpets sounded, and Susan let go of Lucy's hand to step out of the trees after Peter. Edmund walked forward behind her, and then Lucy, her stomach in knots, went forward as well. Pretend it's the opening to a grand ball, she told herself. And you're headed to your throne to announce the dancing is about to begin. And Mr. Tumnus will be there and you'll have tea together and dance with the Dryads and...and…

And it wasn't that at all. One the side closest to the forest were the Narnians and the former Exiles. Mr. Tumnus was there, though, and he gave his friend a smile when she looked at him as she walked past. Mr. and Mrs. Beaver were there too, and nodded their heads at her, and Wal the Squirrel, and Robin, and Dourfog, and so many people she loved, and they all smiled or nodded at her.

She looked to the other side, towards the sea. The Narnians had drawn lines around a square in front of it, and in that square were all the tiny Turtles, their larger counterparts in the water behind them. They, too, were a part of Narnia. They, too, had been injured. This was a part of serving _them_, all of them, humans and Squirrels and Turtles. Lucy held her head higher. That's why she'd do it well. For them. She made it to her seat, crown and dress still perfectly in place, and turned and sat gracefully.

Lord Timoth was brought down after them, a single chain running between the shackles on his wrists, and escorted on either side by Salyte and Sethen the Panthers. Though he'd been locked in a quite comfortable room, he'd spent the whole night growing angrier and angrier as he thought on the morrow, and naturally he did not look his best. Peter stood.

"Lord Timoth of the Exiles, driven out generations ago by the White Witch, returned home with your sovereigns, you stand accused of secretly allying yourself with pirates, to the harm of Myself, my Sister, those under you or serving with you, and the young Turtles who came to witness your return. We are gathered to see that justice is done, that you are fairly heard, and the consequences are just and fair. But we also come to offer the mercy of Aslan." and though the crowd murmured, Peter took no notice. "If you see the wrongness of your actions and promise to follow these conditions in the future: to stand against evil and fight it, to be honest with those you speak with in word and action, and to alert your fellow Narnians if any evil enters their home."

Lord Timoth glared - not at Peter, Lucy noticed, but at the other three in general, and then at Edmund in particular. "It is easy for you to judge," he said with bitter quietness. "You, standing on a shore that has no threat from enemies. You've never _lost_ someone to them. You don't know the real threat they offered." His voice grew louder, and he took a step forward, closer to the thrones. "Your little sister has a magic bottle that takes away all the fear and loss, all the pain. I did what I_ had_ to, to save us. I did!" he cried, turning to look at the former Exiles, nearly bumping into Sethen's black side. The crowd's murmurs grew louder; Sethen turned to look at them and growled. "You saw the fleet! I saw it first! I knew it was there, and that we couldn't stand against it! I bought us time, I bought us our lives, and I bought it by enduring ridicule, by threat to my own life, by all I owned, and finally my brother! You have no right to judge me! I did it for him, for you!"

"We have the right," Edmund said, standing. Peter looked to him and nodded. "We have the right, because Aslan gave it to us. He set us over you, and put your lives in our hands, to defend, to flourish, and to judge, when necessary. And it is by His standard that we judge. By that standard, we say you have committed treason against Narnia and against her people."

"You're a traitor yourself!" Timoth accused loudly, turning back towards Edmund.

"It was _our_ lives," a harsh voice broke in before Edmund could speak. Lord Branther pushed to the front of the crowd, a sword hanging from his waist. "_We_ have the right to judge you." His eyes flicked towards the thrones, avoiding Peter and Lucy, but watching Edmund with wary eyes. "Even if a traitor does not." The Narnians in the crowd hissed or growled, and Peter instantly stood. Edmund held up a hand without looking at him.

"We have not met," he said, his voice calm - but Lucy had seen his hands clench in his robes. "This is a trial, and will be done decently and in order. If you have something to say, come forward." Lord Branther, with the courage Lucy had seen before, walked right past the Panther and stood before the four thrones, to the side and a little closer than Lord Timoth. "Your name and your knowledge of the man on trial?"

"I am Lord Branther, one of the seven Lords of the Exiled Narnians, and I have known Timoth all his life, from the time he was taken as a child into another Lord's home, and our battle, and his _betrayal_ of all those who sheltered and loved him. I have a greater right to execute justice on him than you ever could." He heard Peter's angry intake of breath and he looked towards him. "Your pardon, your Majesty, but I can see why Aslan would appoint you, as a warrior and a true king, and your little sister, with her courage, but it can't be possible that Aslan would put a traitor over us. Any more than He would allow one to live." Peter's hand reached for his sword, but he stayed his hand as Branther continued, "_Five men_ died on the way over here because the pirates knew more than they should. That's laid on his shoulders, and may the weight of it drag him down to his grave!" He turned to Timoth. "He's one of ours, and we're the ones he betrayed; it's us that should judge him."

"_You wouldn't listen to me_," Timoth hissed at him, anger making his voice a shout. "You never, ever listened! You only wanted to fight!"

"That's all you do with evil!" Lord Branther shouted back. "You fight it and you kill it and you never compromise! Not with a lord, not with a king, not with anyone!"

"Enough!" Peter's, Susan's, and Edmund's voices rang out together, the single word. "This is a trial, not a shouting match," Peter added, and the crowd, which had grown still as it avidly watched, shifted as Lord Miltrel stepped forward.

"Branther, if we were all judged for whether or not we'd done evil, none of us would stand innocent," he said quietly. He looked towards Edmund, standing in front of his throne, and the lord weighed him with his glance. "May I speak, your Majesty?" he asked of the young king. Edmund nodded.

"I am Lord Miltrel, another of the seven lords. Though you may not know it, King of Narnia, I opposed our coming home with every power at my disposal; and on the way home was ready to take the ship on which we sailed by force and return to our home. Our," and he paused, and Lucy could see it pained him, "our former home. Former. By the rule of Kings or Lords, that itself would have been treason, and I a traitor. Aslan knew my weaknesses better than I, and He thwarted me at every turn. I stand condemned before Him, if no one else." He turned to Branther. "Would you truly offer no mercy, not to anyone?"

"Not to traitors," Lord Branther said grimly, though he was no longer shouting. "Not even to you, Miltrel, if you betrayed us."

"Not even to one Aslan has forgiven?" And Lucy shifted in her seat, for the crowd got louder, and she could _see_ Narnians snarling at their new neighbors; and her ears caught the "Nos" that many Exiles repeated, Branther's voice rising above them all.

"We don't know Aslan forgave him! All we have is their word for it, and they're his siblings. That word _cannot_ be trusted!" Branther's voice a human snarl.

"We did!" came the cries of many fluting or deep voices, Dwarves and Beasts alike. "We saw Aslan crown him," said a tall Centaur standing by the forest. "Do you wish to dispute it?"

"And he has been made into Aslan's Judge," came a slow voice from the shore. Purpoise had raised himself up, standing with his front legs on another Turtle's back.

"Peace! Peter, Susan, Lucy! Narnians and Exiles alike!" said King Edmund. "Have we no more confidence in our own word than to be so chafed by the accustation that we're not telling the truth? Be calm, Lord Branther, or we will remove you from the trial. Timoth, I ask you again, will you hear of our mercy?" His eyes went from Timoth to Branther, clearly showing him what awaited him if he refused.

"I will not say I have done anything wrong," Timoth said. "Not now. I thought of it every step of the way, I thought of every life I've saved, and I will not say that has been for nothing. I couldn't have saved Rodger any other way; I gave him more life, more _time_, than anyone else here did!"

"Are all humans this stubborn about admitting they're wrong?" came the dry voice of one of the Dwarf guards, and Edmund frowned at him.

"Enough," the King said. "Do not bait the prisoner." Timoth scowled at Edmund's defense of him, and Lucy heard, "Oh, you foolish Timoth," muttered by Susan under her breath.

But the next moment the air changed, lightening to a golden color, and in front of the four rulers the Narnians bowed. The humans beside them knelt in the sand moments later. Lord Branther, turning from where he'd been glaring at Timoth, went white and knelt as well. The four sovereigns rose, turned, and there was Aslan. Instantly they knelt themselves. Lucy trembled with fierce _hope._ Wrong will be right when Aslan comes in sight, she remembered (2). He had come. He had come to set things right.

Aslan was standing with His great golden eyes fixed on Timoth. He paced forward with soundless steps, standing between the traitor and those who demanded his life.

"Timoth," the Lion said, and Timoth started as his name was called by the Lion, "Take heed. Your end is very near, but you may still avoid it. Forget you pride (was it you who gave Rodger life, or called him home? Was it you who saved the rest?) and your anger (was it one of them who took Rodger's life?) and accept the mercy of these good kings and queens."

Timoth was speechless. Not kneeling - the only one standing on a beach filled with Aslan's creatures - but nor was he responding. Aslan looked at him and waited. Lucy, tearing her eyes from Aslan's golden form, looked too, and saw Timoth's face was torn by indecision, regret, and anger.

"_Why_ did you take him?" The "why" was angry, but the end was a cry of pain. Timoth began to weep. "I did all I could, everything, and it wasn't enough for You? Why wasn't it enough to save him?"

Aslan stooped and breathed on his brow. "It was his time to come home. No one is ever told why. That is not the question I am here to answer. No, what you did was not enough to keep him alive. Nor was it right. It was not done for me at all, nor for them, but for your own heart. You entrenched it behind fear. Let the fear go, and accept mercy while it may be found." Lucy's breathe rose and fell and with his sentence, willing Timoth to please let go, to leave behind the dead he desperately clung to and be given Aslan Himself instead.

"But what will I do without him?" Timoth asked, his voice breaking on the words.

"Live, and be no longer a lord, not for now," Aslan said gravely, and Timoth, still weeping, crumbled to the sand. Aslan came still closer. "You will not be told what would have happened, child, if you had not made a bargain with evil. Make no more, and learn what it is to live for Me." He gave Timoth a Lion's kiss, and lifted that great golden head. The four Rulers stepped forward, the Queens coming to either side of Him to bury their hands in His mane and the Kings resting their hands on the hilts of their swords as they stood beside their sisters. "Kings and Queens of Narnia, I charge you with his care," said his grave voice, and Lucy, her hand still buried in his warm mane, smiled. She loved being given care of someone after He had claimed them as His own.

But He had not just come for Timoth. He walked around the lord, the four pacing with him, and He faced the crowd. Lord Branther and Lord Miltrel fell back, stepping into it.

"Former Exiles. Timoth is not the only one in need of mercy." His voice was grave, deeper than when he'd spoken to the weeping man behind him. Aslan turned his head to look at Lord Branther, still near the front of the crowd. "During this very trial, you have rebelled against the King I set over you, turning against his reign. You are traitors, too."

Lucy hadn't thought of it that way, hadn't realised why their bitter words to Edmund bothered her so much. They hurt her brother and rebelled against Aslan, and she was, she admitted, still angry with them. But Aslan wasn't. He rebuked them with gravity, but without anger. She sighed, knowing that meant she had to forgive them as well. And Lord Branther had rebelled because he couldn't understand weakness, nor grace.

Aslan was speaking again. "Lord Timoth accepted mercy. He is the first, and the first to admit his wrong. You must do the same. The mercy you offer Timoth will be the mercy offered you." In the crowd many heads bowed in shame. Aslan had revealed their hearts.

The Lion had one more thing to do. He gently shook His mane, the Queens' hands falling back to their sides. He walked alone to the water, where a Turtle still balanced on another's shell. Purpoise looked up his long neck to the immense golden Lion standing over him.

"You have gone from friend to guide," and Aslan rested his nose on the up-reaching Turtle's. "Well done, good and faithful servant, for your own kind, and for My own." Lucy could see that Purpoise was crying. Aslan stayed there with him a moment, and vanished.

The trial ended there and the Four's tasks began again. The Dwarven guards, who held all kinds of keys in their clothing ("Keys are tools, your Majesties, a powerful thing to carry with you,") came forward as the four gathered around the former prisoner and unlocked his shackles. Peredus and his two children, Peridan and Perelandra, came forward to help as well, and Lucy sighed in relief as they seemed truly kind. Peter and Lucy (with the help of Panthers and Dwarfs) corralled the other Exiles back to Cair Paravel. There Susan, with the thoughtfulness that was daily growing stronger, had musicians and snacks brought to the Great Hall. Under her guidance people coalesced into groups, old and new Narnians alike, after Peter raised a toast to Aslan. Silence reigned for the first few minutes as each Narnian remembered the golden Lion and the mercy He had shown.

OOOOO

(1) Quoted from _The Last Battle_(2) Quoted from _The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe_

**A/N: I tried to style this trial on the one in **_**The Horse and His Boy**_**, echoing phrases of it where I could - like the description of Timoth as he entered, and Aslan's coming and His warning. It did, however, get away from me, and I changed the ending, so it's only loosely based on that trial. My thanks to lberstiennm, who discussed the ideas with me beforehand, read the chapter after I wrote it when I didn't like it, and helped me rework it. Also, my thanks to trustingHim17, who beta'd it, discussed it, and made it better!**


	29. Chapter 28 Time To Mourn

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Time to Mourn**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. But thank you for thinking it was. If you did. But you're still silly if you did.  
****Beta'd by trustingHim17, which means any mistakes you read are most definitely mine, and some of the smoother phrasing that reads well isn't.**

OOOOO

When Lucy woke the next morning, she was unhappy and couldn't remember why.

So she did what she always did when she was sad. She looked for her family.

Quickly throwing on her clothes and shoes, she slipped out her door, only stopping a moment to rest her hand on a patrolling Bear's arm as a greeting. He wasn't a morning person and didn't do much more than grunt, "Good morning, Queen Lucy." She nodded, giving him a smile - healways made her feel safe, with his huge, warm height and funny habit of sucking his paws - and then ran down the hall to find the others.

Edmund she found quite quickly, four rooms and two hallways away. There was a hum of several voices, and she found him sitting calmly in the middle of a room full of Exiles, Lord Brintold sitting beside him stiffly, while the rest ate breakfast. It made her feel uncomfortable, but she didn't think anyone was angry, and when she caught Edmund's eye, he smiled and nodded at her - a real smile. He wasn't available to talk to, though, so she went looking for the next sibling. Instead of Peter or Susan, she accidentally ran into the Centaur who always knew everything.

"Orieus, have you seen Susan or Peter?" she asked, tipping her head back so she could look all the way up to his face after she'd recovered her balance.

"Queen Susan and several Rabbits are currently discussing bringing more food to Cair Paravel for our guests, and King Peter went for a walk on the shore. Shall I escort your Majesty to either sibling?"

"Oh, no thank you. I'll go find Peter myself. Unless you think he didn't want company?" Lucy added, hesitating a bit. The shore made her think of Purpoise, and Purpoise made her think of not being impatient, and thinking about things.

"I don't believe he regards your Majesty as company, as long as there is no danger about," Orieus said, and Lucy smiled, because she liked it when he was a little less stern, and somehow she always got away with more than her siblings did with him.

"Thank you!" She ran past him with a parting smile, heading for the nearest door outside. She was out in the courtyard and then outside the Cair minutes later, running down to the shore.

She saw Peter as soon as she broke through the tree line, sitting by the water, a large round Turtle resting by his side. She slowed as she came closer, not wanting to interrupt. Purpoise was speaking in his deep, slow voice.

"His age troubles you so much, High King of Narnia?"

"The _responsibility_ he had at his age. It was too much for him. I mean, we'll still hold him accountable for his actions and all that. He did still make a choice. But he made it because he wanted to save everyone, and was too young to know how." Peter paused, studying the sea. "I'm as young as he was. And we've already saved Narnia once, together with Aslan. I don't know why it bothers me."

"It is not a bad thing, to learn from other's mistakes," said Purpoise slowly. "I am alive because I learned from many Turtles who did foolish things. My sister, for one. She rides the swiftest currents and forgets to watch for shorelines. Now I always watch for approaching land." Lucy smiled; that did sound like Parable. "It is a bad thing to let their mistakes teach you fear, High King. Learn wisdom, not fear. You won because Aslan helped you; and if you win next time, it will be the same. Do not make Timoth's mistake of trusting in something other than Aslan."

"I'll do my best," Peter said. "Thank you, you know. For everything. Like Aslan said; you've done a lot."

"I will do a lot as long as Aslan gives me life, High King. It is yours. Because you are His."

"And you're His too," Lucy said. Peter turned, and seeing her, smiled. He waved her to sit down with them, and she settled on his other side, leaning against him and watching the sun rise higher. It was a clear sky, growing bluer and bluer, and the smell of the sea was strong on the gentle wind.

"What did you come out here for, Lucy?" asked Peter after a bit.

"I was looking for you. I woke up sad this morning. I wanted family." She paused, then peered around Peter to look at Purpoise.

"Purpoise, Peter, I don't understand. We brought almost everyone back, Timoth is sorry, and he'll be Aslan's now, everyone's home, and we're safe, and we met so many people - Peridan saving me, and Perelandra helping me, and Lady Hadassah, and Lord Jarrick, and everybody - why do I feel sad?" She looked over at the two, hoping they'd know what she couldn't understand.

"It is always a sad thing when Man or Beast makes the wrong choice," Purpoise rumbled. "It was sad when King Dwarfsteel chose not to forgive, and we wept with his wife. There is a time to mourn, Young Queen. Give them time to mourn, and you yourself. But you have a future. There is still much you need to do. All of them need to find homes, and learn how to live and be stewards in Narnia. Like Turtles building nests, it will be something to focus on for the future, and it will help them."

Peter's arm came around her shoulders. "Su and I were talking about Lord Rodger's funeral - his, and the other four who died."

"That will be a good time to mourn, High King. It is well done."

Peter nodded. "After that, we're going to ask the Narnians to help restore the lords' homes, theirs and their families'. And we're doing one more thing I know you'll like, Lu. Something that will make you smile. I promise."

"What is it?" Lucy asked curiously. But Peter just smiled and shook his head.

"Something Su and I worked out - though Ed had a little input. But it's for Narnia's rulers only, so I can't tell you here," he added mysteriously, and Lucy smiled more easily this time. "But it'll be something good to focus on. I promise." They stayed there for a few more minutes, then Peter heaved himself to his feet. "We should go. Edmund's hanging around the Exiles, getting them used to him, but I don't want to leave him there too long."

"He is a good reminder of Aslan's mercy," Purpoise agreed. "It was well done."

Peter shrugged. "He thought of it. And he has an alarming tendency to be right about these things. It's becoming a habit." He helped Lucy up as he spoke, then dusted the sand off her skirt and off himself. She dusted the spot on his leg he missed, grinning at him as she returned his favor.

"Now Susan can see us," she said cheerfully. She looked down at the Turtle. "Goodbye, Purpoise! Give my greetings," she said carefully, remembering the phrases she was supposed to be learning, "to Squint, Parable, and Hardshell?"

"With pleasure, Young Queen." Purpoise closed his eyes, beginning to nap, and Peter and Lucy quietly headed back to Cair Paravel.

"What's the one more thing we're doing?" Lucy asked when they were in the forest, and away from Purpoise's hearing.

"A thank you," Peter said, "for the Turtles, for all the help with the pirates, and with guiding us. We've been trying to come up with something to give them."

"Oh, Peter, that's a lovely idea!" Lucy exclaimed, her face lighting up. "What ideas have you come up with?"

"None I can discuss within hearing distance of other Narnians," Peter whispered as the walls of Cair Paravel came in sight. "Wait, Lu. Just wait."

Lucy didn't particularly like waiting, but Peter did have a good reason for it, so she sighed and resolved to be patient. Together the two of them went to go find Edmund - Peter was still a bit worried about him - and as they walked into the same room where Lucy had seen him earlier, she was suddenly glad Peter had waited. She didn't think walking into the room with a bright smile would have made other people very happy, the same way Susan and Edmund got grumpy at her sometimes if she was laughing too much early in the morning.

Edmund was still sitting by Lord Brintold, but Lord Jarrick and Lord Peredus were there as well. The rest of the room listened to Lord Jarrick, who was speaking while his large hands gestured the form of a large, long box, and Edmund was nodding.

"How much wood do you need?" the boy-king asked intently, eyes on Lord Jarrick's face. "We can send the Squirrels out to find the right lengths; they're always happy to look for hidden or missing things. One of the Owls, Glintfeather, informed us it's a part of being a Squirrel. If we send word to the nearest Scurry (1), we should have the wood for Lord Rodger's coffin by the end of the day."

"Three good-sized trees (2), your Majesty, should be enough."

"Right, we'll send word right after breakfast," Edmund said briskly. "Hullo, Peter, Lucy." The rest of the Exiles rose to their feet, and Lucy smiled at them while staying at Peter's side. Somehow, it was harder to be friendly towards people who had been mean to her brother.

But she stayed in the room - a Queen should do that, right? even a child Queen - and both Pevensies filled their plates and sat down. Lucy found it a bit easier when Lady Hadassah came and sat with them - _she'd_ never been mean about Edmund. Perelandra came a bit later, and Peter grinned when Peridan joined them as well. Lucy thought Peter had made a new friend, and she could be glad for that.

But not too glad. Everyone in the room still moved a little slowly, and smiles were rare. It wasn't much of a homecoming, Lucy thought. She stayed quiet when they sent word to the Squirrels, and when Susan came in to tell Lord Jarrick a workshop with tools had been set up for him to make Lord Rodger's coffin. The Squirrels came back, not only with news of fallen trees, but with a group of Moles, Dwarves, and Stags bringing the wood itself; piles of it, enough for all of the coffins, not just Lord Rodger's. The Exiles who weren't busy preparing for their new homes followed Lord Jarrick to the workshop to help. Edmund and Peter, at Oreius's stern insistence, put on their armor to practice their rather neglected sword lessons, and Susan, perhaps sensing Lucy's lost mood, looked at her younger sister. "Lucy, would you mind helping me today? There's such a lot to do, with everyone staying here, and I thought you could help me, if you have the time." Lucy agreed willingly, glad to be useful - and remembered just a moment later what "helping Susan" often meant.

She smiled ruefully at herself the rest of the day, inside where no one would see, as her busy sister ran up stairs and down them, and stopped at kitchens, then ran into halls to dust off tapestries while exclaiming over the story-telling threadwork, and listened to every worry and irritation of each of Cair's caretakers, and solved them. Today, Lucy threw herself into it wholeheartedly, though she did wish sometimes that Susan would stop and take time to play. But the endless hugs the caretakers kept giving Lucy - Badgers' furry arms, Moles' short ones, or even a Dwarf's firm shake - made the day better and better as it went along. When dinner-time arrived, she was far too tired and well-loved to feel sad or lost.

Lord Rodger's coffin was finished - the other four too, since Lord Jarrick had had so much help. The five would be buried the next day, in a garden close to Cair Paravel. Susan, sometime during that whirlwind day, had asked a group of Sparrows and Mice to clear the garden of stones, weeds, sticks, or anything else, and had asked Cair Paravel's caretakers to move chairs there. Lucy had been doing something else at the time, and hadn't heard, but it sounded like all the preparations were done.

"What are we supposed to do while we're there?" she asked, blinking over her silver bowl of soup. The other three paused, then looked to Peter.

"Do you have any idea what happens, Peter?" Susan asked anxiously.

"No," Peter said wearily, setting his spoon down. "There wasn't really time before, you know, before Narnia, for funerals. In the Other Place they just vanished, gone like that when the streets were cleaned of debris. Before then - there was someone, I remember, but I can't think of it clearly. It was a funny name, something like - Great-Aunt Mildred? I remember a lot of black. Hang it all, I've got nothing else. I've no idea what happens in Narnia (3)."

"We'll ask tomorrow morning," Susan said firmly. "Tonight let's just go to bed."

"Go to bed yourself," Edmund said, smiling softly. "I don't think Lu's going to make it."

"Am too," Lucy muttered to her bowl, blinking harder.

"Am not," Edmund said, catching her and pushing her back. "Su's right, let's get you to bed."

They didn't go to bed right away - Lucy fuzzily heard Susan catch Edmund back and say something to him in a concerned tone, but they'd finished talking by the time the sound reached Lucy's brain and woke her enough to actually listen.

But she was the youngest, and when she tried to ask what was wrong, they told her it was nothing that wouldn't keep till morning, and go to bed, Lu.

It kept. It kept so well Lucy didn't remember it the next morning. During breakfast in a sunlit room with Birds singing outside, the Four addressed the question. First, Susan called for an elderly Owl, apologising for keeping him up so late, and asked him about funerals in Narnia.

"Tu-whoo, it varies, it varies, Your Majesty. Too true, it does! According to kind. Owls, tu-whoo, we choose, just a Parliament. Rabbits, To-whoo! Every one comes! Quite a hard thing, in a frozen winter, to go to an outdoor funeral!"

"And humans?" Susan asked.

"No one knew, no one knew! A hundred years and we haven't had them, sadly true!"

The Four looked at each other, then back at the Owl. "Thank you, Glintfeather," Susan said majestically - but Lucy could see she was disappointed. She didn't like not knowing what to do. Neither did Lucy. The Owl bowed, spread its enormous wings, and flew out the window.

"So that didn't help," Susan groaned, and the four sat quietly, thinking.

Lucy was wondering who they could ask for help next. Someone old, someone who knew a lot. Purpoise! But he was a Turtle, and the Owl hadn't been much help, for humans. How about an old human? Who was the oldest one she knew? Oh, of course - "Why don't we ask Lord Brintold?" she suggested.

The other three looked at her, then at each other. "The Exiles do probably already have traditions," Susan said slowly.

"And Lord Brintold would understand why we need to ask," Edmund added, "or at least he gave the impression of having common sense yesterday. Common sense and a good bit of compromise."

"Right. Robin!" Peter raised his voice, and Robin, who had come to Cair Paravel with Dourfog the day before - the two were fast friends now, Lucy had been happy to see - popped his head inside the window. Lucy realised with a start he'd been singing outside, and the sound hadn't really registered, because she'd heard it so often on the trip.

"Good morning, good morning, your Majesties! Aslan's dawn spreads over our world!"

"Good morning, Robin," Peter said, smiling at the bird's heartfelt enthusiasm. Lucy resolved to spend one whole morning with Robin sometime, just to hear all the wonderful things he said. "Would you kindly go find out where Lord Brintold is, and if he's busy?"

"Happy to, King Peter, happy to!" And Robin at once took flight, red wings flashing bright before vanishing.

Lord Brintold was not busy, and attended to his rulers' request at once. He listened to Susan put their request gravely, and explained that Exiles, based on their memories of Narnia, put the coffin beside the grave, and allowed all who wished to come forward and either share a memory or say a goodbye. Then the person was buried, and flowers were grown and tended by the family for at least one full year.

"Is there music?" Lucy asked suddenly, and the white-haired lord looked at her.

"Not generally," he responded. "Why?"

"Narnians often use it to mourn, and I remembered Purpoise telling us about the singing. When the Exiles left Narnia." She looked up at him, at the face that was suddenly seeing something other than the room he was standing in, lost to a memory of sorrow. "Don't you sing?"

"Narnians love to sing. It would not surprise me to hear music helped give their sorrow sound," murmured Susan in the sudden silence, giving Lord Brintold time to collect himself.

"I think they did," Lord Brintold said quietly, coming back to the present. "My mother's funeral - there was singing at it. But the singing faltered within the first verse, and the tears fell faster. My father told me later it was because the sound of Narnian singing cannot be replicated by Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve alone, and to sing the funeral songs of Narnia only gave sound to everything we had lost." He paused. "Are there any Narnians who still remember the old songs?"

"If they don't, our Librarian may have copies. There's an entire section devoted just to Narnian music. We'll see what he can find, and what the Narnians can learn, before this afternoon," Edmund offered. Lord Brintold, looking him in the face for the first time since he entered the room, hesitated, then bowed.

"Aslan's mercy has taught you mercy indeed, in addition to justice," he said. "I hope I learn as much from Aslan's lesson yesterday. I would be grateful if you did so, Just King." He bowed again, to the Four together, and left the room.

"Well, that was more helpful," Peter said. "You'll see to the music, Ed?" Edmund nodded, addressing himself back to his eggs.

"I'll ask to see who can help sing, if we find something," Lucy offered.

"And I'll ask the Fauns and others to bring their instruments," Susan finished.

"Good," Peter said, pushing back his chair. "I'm going to go make sure everything gets where it needs to go."

They spent the morning doing all they could to make this easier for the Exiles, who, Lucy realised after overhearing two of them talking, were burying the last victims of the pirates, the last loss they would suffer at their hands. Timoth, no longer a lord at Aslan's word, had separated himself from the Exiles, but Susan, using a graciousness that would not be denied, brought him back among them for the funeral. The room had fallen silent on their entrance, and Lord Timoth looked ready to turn around and flee, but for Susan's firm hand on his arm.

Lord Jarrick stirred first. "I know I'm in need of mercy," he said, a bit gruffly. "Aslan said there wouldn't be any for those who didn't show it. Come in, Timoth. We'll be getting Rodger ready for the coffin soon, and there's no other family members to get him ready, so you can help Hadassah. Anything you want to say to him in private, you can. She won't tell a soul, not even me."

"My son and I would help you carry him, if you would let us," Lord Peredus said, rising. "It is your right as his brother to chose who carries him."

Timoth, beyond words, ducked his head and nodded.

"Then come sit," Lord Branther's harsh voice cut in, "and stop standing in the doorway like we'll bite." Lord Timoth entered, and if it was even more uncomfortable than Edmund's presence - especially around Lord Branther and his son Hareth, or the other warriors who had fought the pirates till they bled - at least no one said anything cruel. A few of the Exiles even spoke with him. It was a beginning, Lucy supposed. A beginning where Aslan's own finished what He'd begun during the trial.

She was finding it easier to be among them herself. Their own sorrow - the five who died on the ship had been well-loved, especially Lord Rodger - made it easier for her to help them.

Edmund had found copies of songs the Narnians had used for sad occasions, and many Beasts and Birds volunteered to sing or play them. He brought copies to the Exiles, as well, so they could join in, and music made it even easier for the forgiven traitor to join the ones he'd betrayed.

And Lucy would never, ever forget the sound of all their voices raised, mourning, Bird and Beast, Dwarf and Centaur, Faun and Dryad, and all of Narnia's Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve, as the Moles threw dirt on the five coffins. It was a mournful and heart-breaking thing, she thought while crying, her hands in Peter and Susan's, but it was also an ending, of an Exile and a battle.

She was ready for tomorrow, with its new beginning.

OOOOO

(1) According to Google/Quora, "A group of squirrels that don't consist of a family unit is a scurry. A family of squirrels is a dray." I never knew there were two different words for it, but cool.  
(2) I tried to look up how many trees it would take to build a coffin, but I only learned that it would take $200-$300 (oh, _so_ helpful), or 60 feet...and since that varies by the size of the tree, I'm making this up. Let me know if I'm wrong!  
And my sister was absolutely right, authors must have the strangest search histories.  
(3) I don't either. Well, this should be fun to write. It's Lewis, so something straightforward, sensible, and clear-headed. When I woke at five in the morning because a mysterious person we haven't discovered the identity of yet was taking a shower in our basement. (In reality, _some_ type of water was running, but we can't figure out what, or who started it, because there's a washer [but the sound didn't thump], a sump pump [but we didn't get rain last night], and a shower...and then I heard our back screen door creak, but that could have been the wind. It's been a weird morning, guys.) This should go very well. Wait, Caspian had a funeral of sorts! I just remember Rilian weeping, and mournful music that almost broke Jill's heart.  
So there's music. Ok. I might be able to work with that.

**A/N: As far as the story has informed _me_, this is the second to last chapter. If I try writing the next one and find the story has more to say than can sensibly go in 3-7 pages, my sincerest apologies. **


	30. Chapter 29 The Tale's Ending

**Chapter Twenty Nine: The Tale's Ending**

**Disclaimer: To write any good ending is a challenge, and I'm hoping I rose to this one. But the challenge was originally begun by a different author, and all credit and monetary profit belongs to him and whomever he gifted Narnia to.**

**A/N: Beta'd by trustingHim17, who helped with a great deal of this story, and helped keep the last chapter mistake-free. The details of the surprise Edmund and Susan have for their siblings was mainly her idea. Also, as this is the last chapter, I wanted to offer my thanks also to those who reviewed so much - it really helped me keep the story going. Thanks for sticking with the whole thing!**

OOOOO

The next morning's dawn was lost to the sound and sight of rain. Lucy hopped out of bed and went to her window, holding one arm out to feel the drops.

The drops were cool and clear on her arm, and she smiled, then laughed. The Narnian sky was washing away everything wrong, and the sun would shine and make everything beautiful again. She was sure of it. She drew her arm back in and skipped over to pick out a dress for the day.

Breakfast (said the helpful Faun she'd bumped into in the corridor) was going to be served in a separate room this morning, since the windows had been left open in their usual dining room and the chairs were very soggy. Lucy thanked the Faun and skipped down to the small stone room shaped like a circle, with a round table in the exact center. Susan and Edmund were already there, leaning forward over a covered silver tray in an intense conversation. When she came in, however, both glanced up to smile and call a good morning.

"Where's Peter?" she asked, sitting and pulling a silver bowl right to the edge so she could reach it better.

"The Birds outside his window said he woke up grumbling, so he'll be a bit," said Susan serenely, and Lucy looked at her suspiciously. "Yes, Lucy?"

"You're usually up to something when you use that tone," Lucy informed her sister. Edmund broke into a laugh.

"And you thought _I'd_ be the one to give it away," he teased his older sister, and Susan frowned at him before breaking into a good-natured smile.

"All right, all right, it was me," she said. "The two of us have a surprise for you and Peter, Lucy. We'll share it as soon as Peter gets here."

"And wakes up," Edmund added. He took another bite out of his food. "We're not giving it to him before he's fully awake."

"And wakes up," Susan conceded. "Edmund, Lucy, you're supposed to _wait_ till everyone gets here before eating."

"I'm hungry," Edmund objected.

"I forgot," Lucy admitted, setting down her spoon. Edmund growled but set his down as well.

"Don't bother," said a tired voice from the door. "I don't want to wait for breakfast anyway." Peter sat heavily in the fourth wooden chair. He pulled his own bowl towards himself and stuck his spoon in it. Susan and Edmund glanced at each other.

"Are you all right, Peter?" Susan asked.

"Tired." He sighed. "Lords Branther and Brintold caught me last night. They'd spoken with the other lords, and they said with our permission Hareth and Peridan are going to take Rodger and Timoth's place - since Narnia has seven castles, but tradition says at least two lords stay at Cair at all times. Something else we didn't know about, but it makes sense. Hareth and Peridan are going to stay here, since that's less weighty role-"

"They only say that because they haven't dealt with us yet," Edmund interjected, but Peter kept going as if he hadn't been interrupted.

"-and they'll switch out with their respective parents after a couple years, Lord Branther and Lord Peredus coming to Cair. We'll set up a regular rotation after that. I thought it was a good idea, but said I'd bring it up at breakfast." Peter sat back and looked at the other three. "What do you think?"

"I think it's a good idea," Susan said after a moment. "From what you've told me, the two of them grew up knowing they'd be lords someday."

"We'll need to go with the lords when we settle them into the castles," Edmund said thoughtfully, "to reinforce their authority."

"And to introduce them to everyone!" Lucy added.

"It'd give us a good chance to see more of Narnia too," Susan agreed. She also sat back in her chair. "I'll look over the maps in the library with one of the lords, and find out where the old homes are. We can begin repairs right away. That will give us time to plan the trip. And I'll settle Hareth and Peridan in more permanent rooms."

"Timoth and Perelandra want to stay as well," Peter added, and Lucy smiled, beginning to bounce in her chair at the idea that her new friend was staying as well. She couldn't wait to introduce Mr. Tumnus and Perelandra; she thought they could go on all sorts of adventures together.

"Timoth wants to go down the beach later, to apologise to the Turtles," Peter said more quietly. "He's asked at least some of us to go with him."

"I will," Edmund offered.

"Me too, I'd like to see the Turtles today," Lucy added, and Peter nodded. He still looked very tired, Lucy thought, watching him lean back against his chair with his eyes closed. Susan must have noticed too, because she looked over at Edmund, and the two of them had an unspoken conversation.

"We have a gift for you," Susan said quietly, but Peter sat up and opened his eyes, curiosity on his face. Susan gestured for Edmund to begin.

"According to the maps, there's several other islands out there," Edmund began. "We can't go visit all of them, at least not right away. It just takes too much time."

"And we missed you," Susan added in a low tone. "It's a lot harder when the two of you are gone. We thought this would be a pleasant surprise for when you got back."

"So we worked on a project, so that next time we'd have options." Edmund paused. "We hope you like it. We tried to make it one you would like. If you don't, you know," he shrugged, trying to look like he didn't care - a look Lucy didn't like, because it reminded her of the time right before he became a bully - "you can always change it."

"What are you talking about?" Peter asked curiously, too tired to be anything but blunt. "Options?"

Susan reached over to the silver tray sitting between her and Edmund, and lifted off the cover. Underneath was not food, as Lucy expected, but four small gold circles, about the size of her palm, with small poles sticking out of the middle of them. She looked at them in puzzlement. Susan picked the first one up and handed it to Peter; he looked at it and his eyes grew wide. She picked the last one up and handed it to Lucy, who took it by the pole - the handle, she realised, surprised by its weight - and turned it over, studying it.

The bottom, the side without the pole, had a raised design and rim on it. The design was her dagger, she realised with surprise, the tip pointing down, and crossed by - that was her vial!

"Are these our _seals_?" Peter breathed, staring down at his. "Ed - did you - Su - how?"

The seals, Lucy remembered, that they hadn't had, which were supposed to represent them.

"We discussed the designs a lot," Susan said in her serene voice. "We haven't had them recorded in the record of royal seals, since we were not sure you would want to keep the designs, but it should take a single day to have that done, and make them official. If you like them."

"I love it!" Lucy squealed in excitement, looking down at the dagger and vial again. "It means everybody will know about my Christmas presents!" Peter looked over at her curiously, and Edmund reached for her seal and handed it to Peter.

"It's more than that, Lu," Susan added quietly, the serene - nervous? Lucy wondered - tone dropping into one of relief. "It also means your courage and your compassion, which are two of the largest things about you." She smiled, and Lucy ran around the table and hugged her tightly. And then she ran to hug Edmund.

"Wait, if that's mine, what's Peter's?" She ran to her third sibling, giving him a hug for good measure, because both the others had gotten one, and looked at the seal he held up for her.

It had the similar raised rim, but the design were four crowns, one at each of the points of the compass. They were their crowns, Lucy realised with surprise, reaching out to touch Peter's with a finger. His was at the top where North would be, with two tiny lions roaring; Susan's was made of elegant, graceful loops with diamonds in between, Edmund's a smaller version of Peter's, a bit graver, with the lions staring instead of roaring, and Lucy's was made of leaves and flowers. It was a seal that had all four of them on it, but Peter leading, and she thought it was perfect for him. "Do you like it?" she asked, smiling up at him.

"I could not have asked for a better," he said down to her, and smiled at his two other siblings. "Thank you, Ed, Su." The two of them completely relaxed at his praise, smiling. It was a wonderful breakfast, Lucy decided, with everyone smiling. "What about your seals?" she asked curiously, and Susan handed them over, Edmund's to Peter and her own to Lucy.

Susan's had three lilies growing out of the raised rim, and single rune above it. "What's this mean?" Lucy asked, touching the rune, Peter swiveling his head to look over her shoulder.

"It means peace," Susan said. "It's one of the ancient runes - like the ones used on the Stone Table - and some of the Centaurs still know their meanings. It's what I want to bring to Narnia," she added wistfully. "After so many years of fear, I'd like to give them some peace."

"We will, and you'll probably be the best at it," Peter said, smiling at her. "Here, Lu, look at Ed's," as he turned the bottom of the seal towards her.

The background was a lion rampant, one paw raised near his head, and two swords crossing each other in front of him. Last was a crown, centered where the swords crossed (1). "Orieus wants to start training me to use two swords," Edmund said a bit sheepishly. "And I wouldn't be a king without Aslan, so I wanted both of those on my seal."

"I think all four should be entered in the royal record today," Peter said, still smiling. "These are perfect, you two. Well done." He pushed himself back from the table. "Su, since you're handling settling the Exiles, I'll get that done. Lu, Ed, are you heading to the beach?"

"It's the best time to catch the Turtles," Lucy said. She turned to Edmund. "Can we go now? I really want to see Purpoise."

"Sure," Edmund said, pushing himself back as well. Lucy copied him. "Peter, do you want me to talk to Purpoise about our gift while I'm there?"

"What gift?" Lucy broke in, looking from one of her brothers to the other. "Peter is this the thank-you gift?"

"Yes," Peter said. "Yes to both of you. I'm not sure how much longer the Turtles will be staying on Narnian shores - Purpoise told me they need to take the newborns out to sea, soon, and stay there, to teach them how to survive. They just came back for the trial."

"All right," Edmund said, heading out the door. He paused. "Where's Timoth, anyone know?"

Timoth had been spending much of his time in Narnia's library; he found the old librarians treated him the same as they treated everyone (except Lucy) - gruffly, impatiently, but with a hidden kindness. Lucy and Edmund found him there, and asked for the rest of his morning, so they could go down and visit the Turtles. Timoth turned a little white, but quietly agreed. Walking along the halls, Lucy noticed he kept opening his mouth, and then closing it again. Edmund probably noticed too, but if he wasn't saying anything about it, Lucy thought she should wait too.

"King Edmund," said Timoth at last, just as they reached the courtyard. "I wanted - I'm sorry, soverysorry," and the last came out rushed.

"For?" Edmund asked calmly, still walking forward, though is tone was kind.

Timoth hesitated. "For not taking your mercy," he said at last. "You offered it, on the ship, and I almost took it, but - I didn't."

"Sometimes it is difficult to believe something is true until Aslan Himself says it," Edmund said, almost to himself. He looked over at Timoth. "You're forgiven, Timoth."

"Thank you," Timoth said, sighing in relief. He hesitated another moment. "Do you - do you think the Turtles will forgive me too?"

"Purpoise will," Lucy said confidently. She couldn't imagine the wise old Turtle doing anything else. Something about wise old creatures made it very easy to imagine them forgiving. Her face fell. "I don't know about the others."

"We cannot know till you ask," put in Edmund. His tone was grave, the tone Lucy was beginning to think of as his wise-man tone. "But Aslan bids you ask, of all the ones you've wronged. If they do not forgive you, that is something between them and Aslan."

Timoth nodded, thinking over Edmund's words. As they gained the path he fell back a little, letting Lucy and Edmund walk side-by-side through the trees. The first half of the walk both siblings were quiet, thinking.

"Oh!" Lucy exclaimed. Edmund looked over at her. "I've been meaning to tell you - I kept my promise!"

"What promise?"

"When we left, you said promise to watch out for him. And I did," she said proudly. "I kept an eye on him all the time we were away, except when he was fighting, because he wouldn't let me there, or when he sent me to do something. But I kept an eye on him the rest of the time, Edmund, just like I promised!"

Edmund reached over an arm and hugged her. "You did a great job," he said. "In fact, better than us now that he's back. We'll all need to keep an eye on him now."

"And on Susan," Lucy agreed.

"And on Susan. In fact," Edmund said dryly. "I'd even say you kept the promise better than he did. Seriously, Lu, what were you thinking? Avalanches, bruises, trials, shipwrecks, pirates? Seriously, Lu?"

"I didn't start any of those!" Lucy objected. "I just finished them."

Edmund sighed, and held her tightly for a moment under his one arm. "I know, Lu, I do. But try not to do them again, ok? I have enough to do running around to keep Peter out of trouble during battle. I don't know if I have the resources to keep you out of trouble as well." He let go of her to ruffle her hair, and she batted his hand away. "Don't take after Peter, ok?"

"I'm not Peter," Lucy protested. "I'm _me_." Edmund grinned ruefully.

"And I suppose I shouldn't be trying to change you from the way Aslan made you." He stepped a little away as they broke through the trees onto the beach. "And if anyone is in His paws, it's you, Lucy."

Lucy frowned. "How does that change me being me?"

"It doesn't. Forget about it." He walked forward, towards piles and piles of large circular shells on the beach, though several of them were moving forward into the water. Timoth caught up with the three of them, and they made their way through the Turtles, looking for Purpoise.

He, Parable, Hardshell, and Squint were all together at one end of the beach, by the rafts. The three adults looked towards the sea, but they turned their heads in unison as the humans approached. Squint was splashing in the nearby waves that kept retreating from the beach.

"Good morning!" he squeaked, turning back from the water as soon as he saw them. "Queen Lucy! Other King! Hello!"

"Good morning, Squint," Lucy said, bending town to touch his shell, and then plopping on the beach beside him. "What are you doing?"

"Practicing!" he squealed, flapping his flippers excitedly. "We're leaving soon! On our second adventure! And I'll stay out at sea for years and years and then come back and show you everything I've learned! And we'll go on our another adventure! And I can tell you all about my adventures with Hardshell! I'm going to go as deep as he does, just watch!"

Lucy felt a pang. She'd forgotten that the Turtles weren't really Narnians, that their home was far from Narnia's shores, and they'd leave. She didn't know how she would say goodbye to any of them - but especially Purpoise. "Maybe we'll see you when we go sailing," she said softly. "We'll be visiting the other islands and having adventures of our own." Edmund's hand fell on her shoulder, and she leaned against his leg.

"Purpoise, Hardshell, Parable, and Squint," Edmund said, smiling down at the Turtle tot. "We came this morning for two reasons. One is Timoth's, and I will let him speak for himself." he stepped back, letting Timoth stand before the four Reptiles.

"I came to say I'm sorry, and I was wrong to do what I did," and Lucy felt so sorry for Timoth as his voice shook a little. After so many years of saying he _wasn't_ wrong, this had to be hard. "My actions placed your young in danger, and I came to ask if you would forgive me. I'm glad none of them were hurt." The four Turtles were silent for a moment.

"I will not speak for the rest of my kind, but my forgiveness you have," Purpoise said slowly. "Learn from what you did, Son of Adam, and thank Aslan that He did not let any be hurt by your actions. You are, by your very nature, put over us, and we can easily be hurt by you." His tone held a warning, but he did not look away from Timoth, and he did not accuse him. Timoth bowed.

"I saw Aslan forgive you," said a high, solemn voice, and Squint crawled away from Lucy to look up at Timoth. "And we're supposed to be like Aslan, as much as we can. So I forgive you too." He touched Timoth's foot with one flipper. "I'll even come swim with you, when I come back, and you can learn what it's like to be a Turtle." Timoth, eyes watering, smiled shakily.

"I forgive you," Parable said, the normal ripple of her voice muted by sorrow. "You have made one of the darkest memories of my long, long life, Son of Adam. And there have been many of those. I will be on Narnia's shores next year, and I bid you see if you can make a bright memory for me."

"I will do what I can," Timoth promised, and Parable nodded. She nudged Squint closer to the shore.

Hardshell looked at Timoth for a moment, and if Purpoise's stare had been kind, though measuring, Hardshell's was fierce. "They took our young," he said at last, and his voice was as unshakable as the cliffs of Galma. "I cared for them, and you put them in the hands of those who held knives to their necks." His tone was sharp, an anger as unforgiving as the depths of the sea. He stared hard at Timoth's wretched face. "But as much as I care for them, Aslan cares for them more, and their care is in His hand. Though I do not know how, yet, I promise I will forgive you."

"Mercy for the merciful," Edmund murmured from behind Timoth. He stepped forward to rest his hand on Timoth's arm.

"You will find forgiveness yet more as you learn to live again, Young Repentant," Purpoise said in his slow voice. "Aslan's own find more and more of His good things as they learn to live like He commands." He swung his head to look at Edmund. "You said you had two things to speak of, Aslan's Judge. What other things do you need us for?"

Edmund stepped forward another step, in front of Timoth so he could face all four Turtles. "My royal brother and sisters, along with myself, wish to thank you and all your kind for the friendship you have shown to Narnia and her people. Yet we found ourselves with nothing we could give that you might need, besides a promise of our friendship and help, should your kind ever find themselves in need. But in this we remembered a gift a former king once gave. In emulation of him, we regift his promised space that will be for your kind, and yours alone; a section of Narnia shore that will belong only to the Turtles. If you care to show us the measurements he laid out for you, we will have our Dwarves build a low wall, not a foot high, that will mark the space as yours. None may enter it without permission, and it will have our protection when the time comes to build your nests."

The Turtles were silent for a moment, swinging their heads to look at each other, Parable and Purpoise communicating silently the longest. Lucy watched them. She would miss this, miss _them_. She would miss Purpoise most of all. But she was so glad they had given the Turtles the gift before they left. It must mean a lot to them. Parable's eyes were wet (2). "It is a great gift, great King," Purpoise said softly at last. "You have given our young a safer future, and there is little we want more than a gift such as that."

"And we thank you for your promise of help, too," Hardshell broke in. "I know you Four keep your word, and such a promise is a good thing to have." He turned towards the shore. "Give you brother and sister my thanks, Majesty," he said over his shoulder, and then dove into the water.

Parable laughed. "That is his version of goodbye," she said, the ripples back in her voice. "But it is not mine. King of Narnia, Queen of Narnia, meeting you and your siblings has been an honor, and more, a pleasure. I will return next summer, Aslan willing, and see you both again. I will take you to the most musical caves, Queen Lucy, and show you the music of falling rocks when we do not have to race them down a mountain," she added, turning to the Queen, and Lucy smiled at her.

"I would love that," she said, walking forward till she could run her hand over Parable's shell one more time. "Squint, will you be back next summer?"

"A little after, Queen Lucy," Parable answered for him as Squint nodded beside her. "He will need to grow for the next few years; after that, he will return. And many stories will he have to tell, if takes after his mentors," she added, laughing. Lucy knelt and scooped the Turtle up.

"Goodbye," she whispered, her voice catching as her eyes teared up. "Grow up safe, ok Squint?" He pushed his tiny head against her cheek.

"I promise to try!" he said, his voice still high-pitched. She set him down again. "Goodbye, other King! Goodbye, Queen Lucy! See you in a few years!" He and Parable both washed themselves out with the next wave, and Lucy turned to Purpoise.

"Are you leaving as well?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from breaking. She would miss him the most.

"No," he said in his slow, deep voice. "I am a Narnian now." Lucy looked at him, waiting - he was sure - but it was _Purpoise_ \- and she ran and threw her arms around his neck, actually crying now.

"You're staying," she cried, over and over. "You're _staying._ You're staying."

Edmund let her cry, staying next to them on the beach but looking out over the water. When Lucy calmed down some, he pushed her hair out of her face and wiped it with the sleeve of his shirt. It wasn't as gentle as Susan, but just as kind, and Lucy hugged him. "Thank you," she whispered.

"I'm heading back to Cair Paravel," he said, a bit awkwardly. "Do you want to come, or wait a while?"

"I'll stay here for a bit," she said, smiling up at him. He nodded, and she sat by Purpoise, watching him walk away. "I'm so glad you're staying, Purpoise," she sighed, leaning against him.

"Aslan sent me here, Young Queen," he rumbled. She could feel it in her back as his shell moved. "It is good for me to stay. He sent me four more children to look after, for a while. I am looking forward to it." Purpoise chuckled. "It may be as much fun as watching Parable grow had been." He broke off then, into a story - he hadn't told one in a while, Lucy realised, and perhaps the trial had taken a toll on him as well - and she listened quietly to his stories, happy to just be there.

It was a bit of a change from the first time she'd met him, she realised with a start. When she'd rushed down to the beach and been a little impatient with his slowness.

When she'd been impatient as a Queen, and not ready to face the hard things in it, wishing they would go away. There were still things she couldn't do, she knew - she _still_ couldn't read the elaborate script like the others could, and she hadn't practiced in ages, and she was pretty sure she'd still find the important court boring - but Peter was tired, and she had a little better idea of how to help him now.

And she was enough of a Queen, then and now, that Purpoise recognised her as one. He'd even helped her be one, a better Queen, making her own set of stories, like King Dwarfsteel.

For the rest of the morning Lucy sat quietly and listened to her Turtle friend tell stories, and she thanked Aslan He'd sent this Turtle to tell those tales and help her live out her own.

OOOOO

(1) trustingHim17 found a wonderful picture of this seal at prntscrDOTcom /pg8 qnn [removing the spaces and changing DOT to the period symbol]. The idea of Edmund using two swords belongs to her as well.

(2) Apparently turtles do cry - they have a gland near their eyes that collects the extra salt their bodies get from the ocean, and they release it through tears. Cool. (Side note - I was writing with a friend writing her own story across the table, and I asked her if she knew if turtles cried, and she asked if reptiles in general cried. And the only one we could come up with for sure that we knew were crocodiles.)

**Response to AnonymousMe: I do address them going to the other islands in this chapter, but since those islands don't have actual Narnians on them, like Galma did (and they didn't actually meet the Galmans in the story), I didn't focus on those. For Queen Dwarfsteel - one of my favorite professors back in college said she spent eight years working on her "Dr." and forty years working on her marriage, and we could call her Dr. or Mrs. and then her last name. It's a story I've remembered, years later - and I could see Queen Dwarfsteel throwing herself into her husband's work so wholeheartedly she also took his name and sobriquet. It would have made her laugh. To be completely honest, that did not offend me, but telling me to go read _The Horse and His Boy_ did rather make me roll my eyes. I have read it, repeatedly; hopefully that comes out in the story. But I am very glad you're following this story, and Kidnapped. And you're welcome to use whichever name you prefer; I'll know AnonMe or AnonymousMe is you whichever you use. I'd probably guess AM would be you as well; you have a pretty distinctive reviewing voice. Thank you for taking the time to read through the whole story, and enjoy the last chapter!**


End file.
